Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies
by wingedraksha
Summary: Life's hard when you're a teenager. Even more so when you lean towards the lupine side come full moon. And when you add dudes with special powers, witches with evil missions and general bad luck into the mix? Well, what's a girl to do!
1. Ipswich

Chapter the First: In Which Kitty Teague Come To Ipswich, or 'How Life Can Suck'

Ipswich. What kind of a name is Ipswich? Sounds like a sneeze, or some kind of rare disease. 'Sorry, ma'am, you've got ipswich. You have two weeks to live.' Okay, maybe a little bit melodramatic, but that's the way I was feeling when I rolled into Massachusetts.

Let me give you a bit of background. I am from California. As in the California everybody on the East Coast thinks of when they hear the name: beaches, palm trees, surfers, the whole shebang. I lived in paradise for seventeen years of my life, which really made up for the other parts that were so severely screwed up. Now, along with all my other problems, my divorcee-father has upped and moved all the way to this dinky little Salem-wannabe town where the closest thing to a beach is what, the town chlorine-infested pool? I'm nursing some bitterness here, in case it was unclear.

Just so I don't sound completely bitchy, I do in fact have some pretty serious issues. Number one on the list being that I have a secret. A big one. A secret that has pretty much bound me my entire life. There really is no easy way to say this, so I'll just come right out with it.

I am a werewolf.

That's right, you heard me. Were-wolf. Man-wolf. Well, girl-wolf, to be more accurate. The point is, I have a chronic case of the fuzzies. Every full moon, to be exact, though I can Change at any time if I so desire. No, by the way, I do not turn into some ravenous beast. Please. How… passé.

So there I was, teenage werewolf on campus. (I love that show. Hilarious.) My dad was way too excited about this move for me to bum him out completely, so I was stuck being depressed all on my onesies, which was not too fun. And the very next day after we moved in, I would be going to Spencer Academy.

I kid you not.

Seriously, any school with the tag 'academy' on it has just GOT to be a drag. They have uniforms. There is no way anything, especially an _academy_ can be any degree of chill with uniforms. This, suffice to say, did not add to my overall cheer factor.

"Kitty! Come on down and look at this!" Perfect. Dad-bot Version Single. Honestly, despite the fighting, I think I preferred him and Mom together. At least he didn't have that stupid 'everything is DANDY' tone in his voice all the time. And now I feel guilty, of course, for begrudging him his happiness. Damn it, I just can't win.

"It's KAT," I screamed back, knowing perfectly well I was fighting a losing battle.

"Come DOWN," he responded, equally loud. Sighing, I stomped out of my new room, careful to step on every crack I could find in the stairs with my daisy-patterned (thanks to Sharpie and a free period at my old school) combat boots in order to make the old wood creak as much as possible. My father was sitting at the kitchen table, holding a brochure in his hand.

"Yes, padre?" He looked up with a smile and waved the brochure at me.

"Check it out, Furball!" I took the shiny packet with an eye roll. Isn't it ironic that my parents had a werewolf for a daughter, and named her 'Kitty'?

"It's Spencer," I noted dryly, flipping open the brochure. "I've already seen this, Dad."

"I know, hon, just… Look at that campus. You like being outside, right? I bet you're gonna love it here. No, I know you are!" I wished I could bite down right there and make him feel how much I resented this move, but I just. Couldn't. Not when he looked so hopeful, so eager to please. I knew how hard he'd fought to get custody of me, to be able to take me with him into his new life.

"Yeah," I allowed finally. "I'm sure it'll be great."

Hell. Pure and uninterrupted Hell.

From the moment I walked into that damn school, eyes were on me. New girl. Oooh, look at her hair! Are those bleached, or is she some kind of skunk half-breed? What's with all the bracelets and the black nail polish? Is she Goth? Does that explain the eyeliner and combat boots?

I could feel the stares like brands. I've never moved before, never had to face this kind of scrutiny. Not only was there that, but my classes were _hard_! No one ever mentioned that Spencer was a school for _smart_ people, or at least that I had been put (by who, please?) into a smart person's classes! I slumped in the back after the mandatory introductions, and wished I knew the answer to at least one question.

After what seemed like forever, the last class of the day rolled around. Some level of English. Contemporary Lit, or something. I slunk into the room with as much stealth as I could muster, wincing when the teacher, a middle-aged guy who looked vaguely irritated, called my name. Before I could pretend like I hadn't heard it, he'd spotted the unfamiliar face and was beckoning me to the front.

"Settle down," the teacher called. Chaos. Utter chaos. I raised a brow. "Be QUIET," he roared without so much as a warning. I jumped about a foot in the air, and the students dropped reluctantly into seats arranged like stadium risers. I gulped, put on my disinterested face, and looked around.

"People, this is Kitty Teague. She's just moved from California. Help her catch up to where we are." And that, amazingly, was it. First teacher that hadn't actually asked me some asinine question about what my favorite band was or something. Giving the man, a Professor Daly, an uncertain look out of the corner of my eye, I stalked (I like to think so, at least) up the risers until I found an empty seat. As I sat down, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I glanced up and behind me to find a boy leaning down past another, darker-haired boy, arm still outstretched. His longish blond hair fell into wicked blue eyes, and his grin was just as devilish.

"So tell me, Kitty-cat," he said boldly, "do you purr?" I cocked a brow. This, I knew how to deal with.

"Only after beating the shit out of guys like you," I replied, before turning back to face the front. From behind me, I heard the blond jerk laugh and then the sound of a muffled punch as someone else said,

"Oh, Reid, burn! Hey, ow!" Despite myself, my lips curved just a tad. Hey, he'd laughed at my snappy comeback instead of taking offense. Then, I mentally slapped myself. Dumbass. You can't get involved with anyone, not with what you're hiding. And especially not involved with arrogant, flirtatious… annoyingly good-looking…

Time to focus on English. Oh, goodie. Stephen King.


	2. Suspicion: Reid

Chapter Two: In Which the Sons of Ipswich Meet the Kat, or 'Why Hormones and Special Powers Do NOT Mix'

When Sarah came bounding over to give Caleb a kiss, I was fully prepared to make my customary gagging sound, and maybe share a lewd joke with Tyler, as was custom. God, the two of them… it's pathetic. Love is so overrated in my opinion. However, my whole 'Oh God, Caleb, get a fucking ROOM' routine was ruined by the fact that behind Sarah was Kate, and behind Kate was a girl I- wait, I did recognize. She was the new girl, the one I teased in Daly's class to show Baby Boy how it's done. I looked her over. Yep, definitely the same chick. Long dark hair, bangs cut straight above the eyebrows, brown eyes with lots of dark liner, combat boots with something drawn all over them… daisies? Eh, she was kinda hot, in the whole quasi-Goth type of way. Not really my style, though. Too introspective. She'd probably want an actual (shudder) relationship, and I just don't do those.

"Hey, babe," Pogue said, catching his dark-skinned girlfriend around the waist as she slid her arms around his neck. "Gonna introduce us?" We were standing near the steps of the Academy, Caleb and Pogue a few feet out, Tyler and I leaning against the wall. As the new girl went to stand beside Sarah, who'd detached herself from Caleb, Tyler straightened off the wall. I didn't.

"Oh, sorry, Kat. Guys, this is Kat Teague. She just moved here," Kate informed us. Sarah took Kat's arm, who glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn't yank her arm away.

"Kat," the blond girl said, "these are the Sons of Ipswich." I watched Kat's brow rise, but she said nothing as Sarah continued. "This is my boyfriend, Caleb, and Kate's boyfriend, Pogue. The dark-haired one there is Tyler, and that's Reid." Tyler actually shook her hand, the poor boy. Me, I just nodded.

"We've met," I said. Kat glared at me, and I gave her a little salute. This didn't seem to go over well.

"Reid, huh? You're a jerk," she said coolly. Caleb, Pogue, Sarah and Kate all burst out laughing. Tyler snorted, but didn't outright guffaw. That's loyalty for you right there. I spread my arms.

"What? Why do people keep saying that? I asked a simple, innocent question, that's all!"

"Don't mind him, Kat," Sarah said conspiratorially. I swear, I will never understand how girls can be so buddy-buddy with each other after knowing each other for like an hour, but hell, same thing happens with guys as long as there's enough alcohol involved… Caleb shot me a stern look, and I knew he'd caught that thought. I sent him a little sneer. Fuck you right back, Oh Great One. He rolled his eyes as Sarah kept talking. "Reid comes off as a real asshole at first, but he's really a sweetheart underneath all that… Reid-ness." This comment only made the others laugh harder, and I folded my arms, glaring at them all. Sure, it was nice of Sarah to remember the fact that I had in fact risked my life right next to Tyler and, in a greater extent, Caleb, to protect her from Chase. That I had been a complete gentleman that time when she freaked in the bathroom, going in and making sure everything was okay, and not even hitting on her once while I did it. Still, everyone else didn't have to find it so damn amusing.

"Yeah," I said sarcastically, knowing that there was really no other way to redeem any of my pride, "I'm just a big old goddamn teddy bear. Ain't that right, boys?" Tyler swallowed, and Caleb and Pogue stopped laughing. Caleb gave me a warning glance, and I raised a brow. Come on, man, that brow said. Am I THAT stupid? Still, though I knew he knew I wouldn't do anything dumb, Caleb artfully changed the subject. Ah, yes. That's why he's our more-or-less leader. He knows when to stop pushing. Usually.

"So, guys, we should probably be moving out. Kat, you need a ride?"

"Sure, that would be great," she answered, not looking at me. As I walked past her, something caught my attention. She was… sniffing? Wait, what? Yeah. She was _sniffing_ me. And there was something…

Then it was gone. The trace of… of _other_ vanished, leaving nothing but a teenaged girl. I frowned, and fell behind again as we headed for the cars. Catching Tyler's arm, I murmured to him,

"Hey, man, do you sense anything weird about this Kat girl?"

"What, now? Reid, we saw her in Lit. Nothing weird about her then."

"I know," I answered, annoyed. "I just… so you didn't get the feeling that…"

"That what?"

"Screw it. It was probably nothing. Just… I don't think I trust her, Ty." He looked at me, a frown of confusion on his face.

"God, we've known her for what, five minutes? And already you don't trust her?"

"Hey, remember Chase? Are you saying we shouldn't go by our instincts?" This shut Tyler up, as I'd expected it to. Then, he grinned a little.

"What the hell. Life was getting boring, anyway. We could use a little excitement. Besides, she's just one girl. How much trouble could she be?" There was a tingle of foreboding along my spine, but, as usual, I shoved it back and slung an arm around his shoulders.

"That's my boy."

When we reached the cars, there was a moment of confusion as I leaped for the driver's side door to Tyler's truck, who slammed into it just a second too late, as Caleb and the girls looked around as if trying to figure out what to do now. Pogue got on his stupid Ducati, which, by the way, cost more money than I've _ever_ stolen, thank you very much, and Kate climbed on behind him.

"Bye, guys," she called, and they sped away into the sunset and all that. I locked the driver's door once I was in so that Tyler couldn't force me out without _using_, and I knew he wouldn't dare do that right under Caleb's nose. I mean, hell. Baby Boy may be my prodigy and all, but he's got a ways to go when it comes to standing up to our Fearless Leader. Honestly? I think he's scared to be too much of a rebel, too much of a rule-breaker. You know, like me. I think he's scared of what Caleb can do when he gets really pissed, like that time he threw me into a wall. Bastard. One of these days…

Point is, I was secure in my keymaster position. I crowed as Caleb rolled his eyes and got into his own car with Sarah, leaving Tyler and Kat to me. Rolling down the window a bit, I called to them,

"Come on, kiddies, some time this year, maybe?" Tyler offered Kat the front seat, which she declined. I smirked at that. When they were buckled in like good boys and girls, I wondered whether or not I should put the fear of… well, _me_ into this girl, to counteract Sarah's dumb sweetheart comment. Besides, there was something weird about her. I was sure of it. Might as well draw the line now, before it got too late. I fucking hate insecurity and uncertainty more than pretty much anything, so there would be no uncertainty about what I thought of Kitty-cat. Teasing her was fun, true, but I didn't deny the strange, _other_-ly feeling I'd gotten off her earlier. Tyler must have caught the grin on my face, because he leaned his head back.

"Oh, shit," he said.

"Hang on," I replied.

Have I mentioned how much I _love_ driving fast?


	3. Eggshells: Kat

Chapter Three, or 'The Reason Boys Should Never Be Given Keys'

There are points in a girl's life when all she can do is close her eyes, grab a handhold and pray to God she'll feel the sweet, sweet ground again.

This was one of them.

"Reid, slow down," Tyler gritted as we rocketed around another corner. Squinting, I could see Reid's hands on the wheel, fingers half-covered by retro black cut-off gloves. His sleeves were rolled up, and the tendons in his forearms stood out as he leaned back in his seat.

"Yeah! Woo-hoo!" I took it he wasn't planning on slowing down.

"Fucking hell," Tyler snarled, "if you crash my car to impress some-"

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, Baby Boy," Reid called, and I could practically hear his grin. Losing all hope, I started my whole deep-breathes exercise.

"Oh god," I was muttering. "I am gonna KILL this boy." Apparently  
I wasn't the only one with excellent hearing in the car, because Reid shot me a quick middle-finger. Tyler whacked him in the back of the head.

"Is it impossible for you- holy shit, watch out!- to be in ANY way polite," he shouted. I heard a snort.

"Where's the fun in that?"

And now comes the awful part. The horrible, terrible, no-good part that I really, really did not want to admit. Despite the terror, despite the annoyingness of the driver…

It was…

Oh, fine.

It was kinda fun.

There, see? I said it. Thought it. Whatever.

Let no one tell you I am immature.

Finally, _finally_ we got onto the residential streets and Reid slowed to a mild 40 mph as opposed to, oh, 90? I sat back, and, able to think coherently again, remembered why I had refused the front seat.

Well, other than the fact that I seriously doubted I would be able to sit beside this kid I had known for only about thirty minutes without causing myself a world of pain. I hear it's frowned upon to disembowel teenagers these days, so I figured I should avoid temptation.

It was his scent.

Well, it was all of their scents, but his especially. Something… something strange. Something I couldn't place. It was like… God, I don't know. Like honeysuckle and iron and a faint, heady smell that made the animal in me want to either run with its tail between its legs or rip something's throat out. It was practically nothing, this smell, but… it was just enough. The other three boys had it too, but they were wearing some kind of cologne that seemed to mask it more than on Reid. Or maybe I'd just gotten a better sniff of the blond. Either way, there was definitely something off-putting about his smell. It made me both desperately curious and desperately nervous, both of which I mentally crushed without hesitation: I could not afford to take any risks. Not after almost getting caught back in California. It didn't matter how enticingly, dangerously _different_ these… these Sons of Ipswich smelled; there was no way I could compromise myself in any way.

How to accomplish this?

The answer was easy. Simple. Embarrassingly juvenile, but I explained that away by telling myself it was the only option. (And by completely, blatantly ignoring the unhelpful little voice in the back of my mind that told me it knew perfectly well that there were other, more teenage-girl-ish reasons for doing what I decided to do.) I would simply avoid them. All of them, but Reid more than the others. It would solve the problem of my possible future in juvie for first degree murder, as well as the urge to both fight him and discover what made him smell so… so… so _other_. And, okay, fine. It would stamp down the stupid, purely hormonal attraction that wouldn't seem to go away, despite the whole almost-got-us-killed-by-DWS (Driving While Stupid, coined by yours truly) thing.

So that was that.

Yeah, like that's _ever _that.

Quashing my doubts, I directed Reid to my house and thanked him, politely, I assure you, for the ride. Tyler waved goodbye, and Reid started to say something, then gave a fractional pause that I just barely caught. His eyes, those startlingly blue eyes, seemed to narrow just a tad, and I felt the familiar rush of fear in my gut. I knew that look.

Suspicion.

But why? I had given him nothing, no reason to suspect me. There was no way he could know anything.

"Yeah, see ya," he finished, recovering completely. With that, the truck turned the corner and was gone. I went slowly to my new house, my home that I didn't think would ever really be my home, and stood for a moment on the porch. My heart was pounding, the blood rushing to my head. I pressed a hand to my temple, and shook my head sharply.

Stupid. This was stupid. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was just a teenager. Sure, there was something weird about his scent, but that could be anything. Hell, it could be the fabric of his clothes polluting his smell. That could be it. That could be.

Still, as I finally pushed open the door and walked in, I was remembering the utter, animal-like terror of being hunted, of being caught. The feral feel of running, running, turning, cornered, fighting, fighting, falling. Something I had never felt, and never wanted to feel. I had come close, too close, in my home in California only a few months ago.

And now, on the other side of the country, I found yet another reason to stay away from the Sons of Ipswich.

Because if Reid suspected me, then who was to say the others wouldn't, too?

"So how was it, Furball?"

"Fine, Dad."

"Make any new friends?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Are they nice?"

"Sure, Dad."

"How are your classes?"

"Fine, Dad."

"Are you suicidal?"

"Yes, D- Hey!" My father, so happy here, tossed me a popsicle with a grin.

"It's alive," he shouted. "Not just a robot!" I stuck my tongue out at him from my seat on our new couch, opening the wrapper of the popsicle. Taking a lick, I focused on my father's smile, and pushed all thoughts of the night, the hunt, and clear blue eyes firmly out of my mind.


	4. Complications

Chapter Four: In Which the Plot, She Thickens, or 'Trouble with a Capital 'T''

"So you think what, now?" Caleb's arms were folded, as were Sarah's. Pogue and Tyler remained noncommittal as Reid slammed a fist on the hood of Caleb's parked car.

"I _told_ you. I think there's something up with this Kat girl." The older boy sighed.

"Reid, man, come on. If there was something wrong with her, don't you think I would have noticed? I mean, I _am _the asce-"

"Yeah, but give me ten days and you won't be the only ascended one, Cal," Reid snarled. He was fed up. Not that that was particularly hard to accomplish, but he was so. Damn. Sick. Of Mr. High-and-Mighty looking down his perfectly chiseled, unbroken nose and acting as if anything Reid said was bullshit, just because it was Reid who said it.

"That's not the point, guys," Pogue interjected. He frowned a little, and jerked his chin at Caleb. "Remember the last time one of us got a bad feeling about someone, and you ignored it?" It was a low blow, and Sarah winced at the memory, as did Caleb. Reid couldn't stop the jolt of satisfaction that gave him.

"Yeah. Remember Chase?"

"So you're saying Kat is another Chase."

"Well, no," Reid said, putting as much 'duh' into his tone as possible. "She's a girl."

"Then what _are _you saying?" Exasperated, now.

"I don't know, all right?! You know what, forget it. Just forget it." Caleb heaved a sigh and went to Reid, grabbing his shoulder. The blond tensed, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Listen. Reid. Maybe you have something, here. We'll keep an eye on her, okay? It's just, I haven't seen anything suspicious about her."

"Yeah, well, where have we heard that before?" Caleb's grip on Reid's shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Point made, already," he said quietly. "Stop bringing that up." Reid shrugged off his hand, eyes darkening. Not black, but close. Caleb shook his head. "Cut it out, man," he warned. Pogue and Tyler stepped forward, not interrupting, but ready. Waiting. On guard.

Reid looked from Caleb to Pogue to the youngest of the four, and took a rebellious step back. He shook his head in disgust, eyes lightening to a tumultuous gray-blue.

"Please," he spat, lip curling. "Stop looking at me like that." Tyler bit his lip, glancing at Caleb, but relaxed back against the side of his truck. Pogue didn't move. Sarah and Caleb watched Reid steadily, slight frown lines in their foreheads. "I said stop looking at me like that!"

"You came pretty close, there, Reid," Caleb said slowly. "To _using_, I mean."

"Yeah, well, I didn't, did I?"

"But you're doing it an awful lot. You always have, when you get mad."

"Well, if you weren't such a-"

"Don't try to blame this on Caleb, Reid," Sarah interrupted, sounding torn between worry and anger.

"You're ascending in ten days," Pogue said quietly. "You gotta be careful right now."

"And that's why I _didn't use_, you morons! God. I'm fine. Okay? Can we get back on subject?" Tyler eyed Reid's wary, defiant face, and lifted his chin. In a clear, smooth move, he strode over to stand a shade behind the blond and to his right.

"Fine," Caleb said at last. "Kat. We'll keep an eye on her, like I said. Any funny business, and we'll deal with it right away. No more taking chances," he added, unconsciously reaching for Sarah's hand. Reid let out a breath, thankful that, now that he was consciously blocking any invasion of his mind, no one else could sense how close he'd really come to the edge. Pogue was right.

This was no time for risks.

88888888888888888

The black car pulled up just past the large sign reading, 'Welcome To Ipswich' and eased over on the curb. The engine didn't cut off as the passenger side door opened. A long, stockings-clad leg emerged, balanced on a crimson three inch heel. A woman followed the leg, standing in one graceful motion. Her black suit was crisp and unwrinkled from the drive, though it had been long.

"So. This is Ipswich."

"Yes, ma'am," said the driver. The woman smiled, showing no teeth.

"Beautiful countryside."

"It certainly is."

"Hmm," she hummed, touching the tip of her forefinger to her smooth, unpainted lips. "Lovely." Liquid elegance, she folded herself back into the car and shut the door. The smell of air freshener quickly replaced the brisk scent of grass.

"Shall we go?"

"Yes. Take me to the hotel."

"Right away, ma'am." The woman leaned against her window, the small smile still flickering on her lips. She reached down to a cloth bag at her feet, sliding out a large, hardback book. Smoothing her hands across the dark leather binding of the cover, she sighed with satisfaction as the pads of her fingers brushed over the slight ridges of gold print that made up the title: _The Lost Pages of Damnation_. Opening the book with utmost care, she stared down at the first page, reading the words there for the thousandth time. Soon. Soon, she would find these… these Sons. Soon, she would complete her mission.

"Kitty-cat, have you missed me," she wondered to herself, whispering the words. The driver did not glance at her. He was used to this. It was, after all, a long drive from California.

888888888888888

Reid flopped back on his bed in the dorm room he shared with Tyler. The other boy wasn't there, but that didn't matter. Sometimes, a guy just needs to be alone. He reached over to the table by the bed and grabbed his CD player, jamming on the headphones and pressing play. The desperate, haunted wailing of Muse filled his head, and he cursed mildly and switched the song. He wasn't in the mood for desperation. He was in the mood for… ah, yes. This _was_ his favorite mix CD. Reid closed his eyes as the loud, fast-paced chords of System of A Down came on.

Ten days.

In ten days, he would ascend.

Ten days.

Reid rolled over, ignoring the tingle of nervousness that ran down his spine. Caleb had done it while fighting in a barn.

It would be fine.


	5. Confrontation

Chapter Five

I got up early the next morning. Not because I wanted to be all expeditious and studious, but because I wanted to take a nice, long shower… something next to impossible to achieve when you live with my dad, who has a special talent for doing the dishes while someone else is showering, thereby stealing all the hot water. I don't know how he does it, but unless I actively plan my showers, it happens every time.

Shampooing my hair, I once again had the thought that I might want to cut it at some point. Immediately after, though, I went all possessive again: this was my hair, which my mother had tried (and failed) to get me to cut. Which I hadn't actually cut in three years. It reached my waist now, and was a pain to wash, but I wouldn't get rid of it. Not yet.

When I finished showering, I stepped out and wrapped my green bathrobe around myself, shuddering as the fabric pressed my wet hair against my back. I slid my hands under the weight of my hair, lifting it out from beneath the back of the robe's neck and letting it flop down against my cloth-covered spine. Then, turning, I wiped a hand towel down the mirror and gazed.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" I got no answer, not that I was expecting one. Hell, even if I had a magic mirror, I sincerely doubted it would say 'you'.

I'm not saying I'm ugly, now. I'm not. I don't think. I just… well, let's just say I lack classic good looks. I have the long black hair, as I've mentioned, complete with one long streak of white down the left side. I keep my bangs cut straight across my brows, framing my eyes, which are brown. My face is very delicate, which is funny, considering I can turn into a vicious animal. I have one of those mouths that always looks just a little heavy at the corners, as if I'm very serious all the time. Except when I laugh; then, I have a surprisingly wide grin.  
I'm just gonna come right out and say this: I am not model-thin. I'm not even slender. I've got what I like to call a 'healthy build'. This means I've got a strong, slightly rounded stomach and thighs that could use some thinning out. But I'm happy enough with my body. It's got all the right curves in all the right places.

To go with my freaky streaked hair, I tend to lean towards Gothic outfits. My wrists I keep covered with silver bracelets, and I never go anywhere without my combat boots. By the way, the whole silver + werewolf bad thing? Bullshit. Just so you know.

I picked up my brush and ran it through my hair, cursing when I came to a snaggle near the end.

Once I was dressed and my hair was mostly dry, I braided a green ribbon through it and put on my dark eyeliner. Couldn't ruin my image, right?

888888888

When my dad dropped me off at Spencer Academy, I was immediately swept into the crowd of students pouring in. I let the wave carry me, relieved at the anonymity.

"Yo, Pogue, wait up!" Or not. What, were they everywhere? I fell back against a closed door and watched Reid catch the long-haired boy's arm, leaning in to talk to him over the rush of voices. In a moment, they were out of sight, and I relaxed again and continued on my way to my first class.

The day passed without incident, much to my relief.

Well, until English, that was…

I made sure to get to class early, and picked a seat in the back, towards the top of the risers. Opening my copy of The Shining, I pretended to be immersed in Jack's thoughts as he contemplated the murder of his kid. Secretly, I was watching the doors. Sure enough, the last people into the classroom were the four Sons of Ipswich, now walking in a distinct group formation. They were leaning slightly in as they walked, as if in discussion. Looking back down at my book, I turned a page.

"Hey," I heard. "Kat. Come sit with us." Was it just me, or was there a tone of mocking challenge in Tyler's voice? No, couldn't be. I ignored him, slumping back with Stephen King and pretending to listen as Professor Daly started to talk.

88888888

Four days of avoidance later, and I was getting kind of tired. Sarah and Kate were fun, but it was hard to hang out with them without the boys getting involved somehow, and I was running out of excuses. Sure, I didn't know Caleb, Pogue, Tyler or Reid that well, and had only just met them, really, but they were the only people I knew at all here. It was hard to come up with reasons why I wouldn't want to spend time with them.

And the full moon was approaching.

Now, I don't want to sound all ominous, but being stressed out during a Change? Not good. It makes it hurt, and it really screws with your judgment. The pull in my gut was getting stronger and stronger, and the tinge of fear that wouldn't go away was not helping at all. The six days surrounding the full moon are the most powerful time for a werewolf. Heightened senses. Heightened emotions. This meant I was starting to have trouble keeping my temper, and that my nose was picking up scents much more clearly than on my first day in Ipswich. That the bud of attraction I'd felt to Reid's silvery-blond hair and lithe, swimmer's body could possibly become dangerous, as opposed to merely annoying. Oh, look. Yet _another_ reason to stay away from him. I was ashamed to admit to myself that, after only four days, my avoidance had changed slightly: now, instead of avoiding _them_, I found myself thinking of it as avoiding _him_.

And I still didn't know what that strange, unfathomable scent was.

I was sitting in the library of Spencer Academy, a math textbook open on the table in front of me. Calculus AB. Thank God they hadn't put me in Calc BC, that's all I could say. I was barely caught up as it was. In my old school, we'd just started trig. I suppressed the urge to growl at the book. God, how I wanted to be outside right now. Not outside doing homework, but outside running. Free.

There was a sudden crash, and I almost leaped out of my chair. As it was, I jerked my head up, unable to stop the instinctive flaring of my nostrils, unable to keep my body from reacting: hands down, body arched forward slightly, legs tensed and ready to lunge from the chair to fight or flee. I pushed down the wild instinct, hating the fact that, as the moon fattened, my humanity became more and more of a passing commodity.

"Hello, Kat," Reid said. I closed my book.

"Hey. I gotta go, see you later."

"Why so soon? I just got here." He did not sit down, but placed his hands flat on the cover of the large book he'd dropped on the table to startle me. I stood.

"Sorry. My dad's coming to pick me up now. Thanks for bringing me out of my comatose state, by the way… I lost track of time." He cocked his head, a gesture that reminded me oddly of a feral thing assessing a situation. Reminded me, not so oddly at all, of myself.

"Comatose, eh? Pretty spry for a vegetable. You looked like you were about ready to attack me." The sly grin on his face gave his words a decidedly wicked slant, and I tossed off a response before I even thought.

"Oh, you couldn't handle it if I did, Mr. Garwin."

"How'd you know my last name?"

"Roll call," I admitted.

"So you pay attention after all. How come you always ignore us when we call you over?"

"I don't always ignore you. Look, I have to go now. Later." I rounded the table, but Reid reached out and caught my arm. There was no electric shock, no burning line of heat radiating from his touch. Nothing so dramatic.

I froze anyway.

"You've been avoiding us," Reid stated bluntly. His eyes, I noticed, seemed a shade darker than normal. "Why?"

"I- I'm sorry if you think that. I really haven't. Just, you know, moving to a new town is pretty hard, and I haven't had that much free time to-" I took advantage of his listening stillness and broke out of his grip, stepping back. He stared at me.

"I wasn't hurting you."

"Like you could," I snapped. "Look, Reid, I'm not avoiding you. Promise. Now, I really have to leave." As I said it, I couldn't help the wolf within. She wanted out, and she wanted… she wanted _him_. I inhaled, taking in the heady smell of male and… whatever it was. Suddenly, without so much as a warning, Reid stepped closer to me. So close that I could feel his chest brush against mine when I took a sharp breath in. Yes. Yes, there _was_ a difference to his eyes. They were… they were darker, deeper, the irises larger. Something… but no, I was imagining it, and then he was backing up again, which was good considering the way my body was telling me to grab his shirt and yank him even closer.

"Weird," I heard him mutter to himself. "What the fuck _is_ that?" And then, with one last distrustful look my way, he strode off.

Well.

That was strange.

I sighed, heading for the door, mentally cursing my stupid traitorous teenage supernaturally-enhanced hormones. Note to self: no matter what happens with the whole avoidance thing, never, _ever_ get in a situation where you're alone _anywhere_ with Reid Garwin.


	6. Decisions: Reid

Chapter Six: Bad Things In Ipswich, or 'Nightmares Are Not Confined To Dreams'

You know how in the movies, whenever someone has a nightmare, they wake up screaming?

That never happens for me.

When I finally forced my eyes open, I was flat on my back, completely rigid, as if movement would break some kind of veil between reality and my dream and all the monsters in my sleep would suddenly be right there with me.

"Fuck," I murmured, scooting up a little and shuddering out the tension in my body. My voice sounded harsh and hoarse, as if I _had_ been screaming, but I knew I hadn't. Well, then again, maybe I had. Wasn't like anyone would have come to find out what the hell was wrong with me. Running a restless hand through my hair, I swung my legs out of bed and made my way to the door of my room, wanting to go get a drink. Something warm and soothing, the kind of thing I would never be caught dead with in the light of day. Something like… hot chocolate. I gave a little half-smile. That brought up thoughts of curling up on a couch and having your mother hand you a steaming mug of… the smile soured, twisting bitterly. Again, I had a thought I would never allow myself if anyone was watching: when was the last time my mother had even had a conversation with me, much less given me _hot chocolate_? I didn't even know.

There are laws against neglect, aren't there? Isn't it some affirmed type of abuse? Shaking my head, I glanced at the closed door of my mother's room. I wasn't even sure if she was home or not. If she was, she'd either be drunk, high, or doped on the latest brand of antidepressant. I felt a muscle in my jaw jump, and forced the anger down. I was _glad _she locked herself in her room all the time, when she did come home. Hell, the last time she hadn't, she'd been so trashed that she'd actually hit on me. Her own goddamn son. That had been… interesting. I haven't told anyone what it feels like to fight off the advances of your own mother, or what it feels like to come home every day for weeks on end (the longest stretch was three, I think) and have nothing but a cold, empty house waiting for you. Not even Tyler. They know, of course, that my mother is away a lot. They think she takes business trips. They aren't aware that we're more or less living on my inheritance and what my father left his wife, and that her 'business trips' involve a poker table and a hotel room. Only Caleb has a vague idea of how bad it really is for me at home, which, I suppose, is why he lets me stay with him sometimes.

This line of thought was pissing me off, so I slammed the door of the refrigerator after getting out the milk. Once I made my hot cocoa, I slouched in a kitchen chair and took a sip, closing my eyes.

God, what a nightmare. It felt so real. I wasn't used to that. Usually, my dreams were… Well, nothing like that. Caleb was the one who had the prophetic dreams. He was the one who saw the demons in his sleep. Not me. Not wise-ass, good-for-nothing Reid who never takes anything seriously.

At least not on the outside.

In the dream, I was standing on a gray field. Everything was gray; the sky, the grass, the earth, the air. There was the smell of cotton candy and blood, metallic and sweet all together. It was sickening. And, in front of me, a girl. Her back was to me, head bowed, motionless. She wore a strange dress, made out of something I couldn't even begin to place, and she was holding something up in front of her with her right hand. I heard, in the distance, a light, girlish laugh, and then someone crying. I wanted to move, but I could just stand there like a stump, unable to _use_, unable to run.

I did not want that girl to turn around.

Slowly, dreamily, she did.

The thing she was holding was a mask, like one of the Marti Gras masks you see in New Orleans, on a long black stick. It was up hiding her face, a long, fanged snout of bone framed by thick dark hair, hair that was woven with crimson ribbons. There was a flash of white, but a ribbon hid it just as I noticed.

And, as I watched, the awful bone mask came away and there was, for an instant, just a girl, but she vanished before I could make out her features.

Then, there was only fire and blood, and the gray world turned red.

Shaking my head again, I took another gulp from my mug. This was stupid. Ridiculous. I didn't get dreams like that. It was a freakish anomaly, that was all. Nothing to worry about.

Five days left before I would be powerful enough to stop myself from ever having a dream like that again.

Kat was avoiding us. It was pretty obvious. She ignored us in class and practically ran away whenever she saw us in the hall. It was weird, and annoying. Weird, because sure, I was a jerk to her, but I'm a jerk to everyone and I still have friends. As for the others, they had done nothing at all to make her want to stay away from them. Annoying, because now that she refused to stay in the same room as me for more than what was necessary, I was feeling kind of snubbed. Girls like me, in general. They think I'm irritating, but funny and charming as well. It bothered me that Kat so plainly did not like me. I wasn't sure exactly why, though. Maybe because she was friends with Sarah and Kate? They liked me well enough; why shouldn't she? Suddenly, I laughed out loud and slapped myself in the head.

"Good God, Reid, you are such a dumbass," I groaned aloud. Was I completely ignoring the strange feeling I got around her simply because of my stupid pride? Yes. Yes, I was. That was it, then. I didn't care if Kat Teague didn't like me, I just cared that she was avoiding me: because that made it so much harder to figure out what was so weird about her. Yesterday, when I tracked her down in the library, she'd done the sniffing thing again. And, _she_ had smelled different, as well. Now, I'm not saying I go around smelling girls all the time, but I can tell when there's a definite difference. Kat had been giving off some kind of faint, woodsy scent, almost like a musk, that brought to mind trees and earth and nighttime. Plus, she'd totally freaked out. Snapped at me, yanked her arm away like I was trying to rape her or something, and then frozen up when I stepped closer so I could try and _use_ to figure her out, before I remembered that I wasn't _using_ right and left anymore, that was. So basically, that whole encounter had gotten absolutely nothing done, except make me wonder whether or not she would freeze like that if I did something more than just grab her arm, which was pointless and dumb anyway.

Only, wait.

I'd found out that not only did she not want to talk to any of us, she did not do well with close confrontations. I smiled, not caring if there was more smirk than smile on my face.

"I am gonna find out what you're hiding, Miss Teague," I murmured. "Like it or not."

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"So this is Spencer Academy."

"Yes, ma'am, it is."

"Hmm."

"Would you like to take a tour of the grounds? It's a Friday, so the students will be there, but I'm sure I could get you in."

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I just wanted to see the school."

"Where to, now?"

"Ah… here we are. Can you read these directions?"

"They're printed, ma'am. Mapquest."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, ma'am. I can read them."

"That's where I want to go next. The one that's circled, not the Danvers residence."

"These are personal residences, ma'am. You won't be able to do anything but-"

"I am aware of that. Your job is to drive, not to question. Take me to the home of… Mr. Reid Garwin; I suppose his mother won't be home."

"Begging your pardon, but how do you know that?"

"The same way I knew my little Kitty-cat came here."

"And what way was that, ma'am?"

"Oh, magic, of course."


	7. Unrest

First, I'd like to thank all my reviewers- you guys really and truly rock! (And thanks to SilentStorm88- yeah, I feel kinda silly for that mistake, thanks for pointing it out!) Just a quick list in honor of those people who took the time to tell me what they thought:

a.k.a. ettie- Thanks, I'm glad it's interesting 

SilentStorm88- I'm glad you think so; I tried to get beyond the fluff of a lot of Covenant stuff.

Greendoggie- haha, holy ginger snaps- that made me smile. Thanks for your praise!

XBrokenDreamerx- Bwahaha, you shall never know who the mystery woman is! Well, I lie, you will, but… eh, I'll just stop talking now:-D

Breiscrazy- Soon, soon, I promise!

Niffer01- Yeah, me too. I felt bad for him just writing it! But I'm a sucker for angst, so I had to do it…

MagykGurl- Thanks!

addict-4-dramatics- I love your name, and thank you! I love making characters as interesting as possible.

Happy Face21- Only a few days until the full moon! Yay!

Angelnanoo- Thank you!

native-kitten- Thank you so much, I love writing it!

Again, you guys are awesome. On to the story, already!

Chapter Seven

"Hey! Kat, wait up!" I wheeled around in surprise, not expecting anyone to be calling my name. A tall boy with dark hair was jogging towards me. In a second, I remembered his name: Caleb Something.

"Yes?" He slowed until he was walking next to me, and smiled. Unlike Reid's wild, daredevil grin or sly, smirky smile, Caleb's was warm and good-humored.

"Sorry. You probably think I'm some kind of stalker, following you around when we've spoken, like, once before." I smiled. Something about this kid put me at ease, though he definitely had the other-smell about him.

"No, it's ok. Your friend Reid's more of a stalker than you are." It was Caleb's turn to chuckle.

"Yeah, Reid can be… abrasive."

"He's an annoying, reckless punk, if that's what you mean by 'abrasive'."

"Well, I don't like to put it in such blunt terms, but… yeah, sounds about right." I grinned despite myself.

"What, no loyalty?" He shrugged.  
"He's a good guy to have on your side, and even if half the time you want to punch him, he does have a better side."

"Huh."

"He likes to hide it. Thinks of it as a weakness, or some kind of bull." I nodded, putting my hands in my pockets.

"I can't see it, but you know him better than me."

"Well, most of the time, we can't see it either. Then, he'll pull something completely out of the blue, or one of us will get in trouble only to have Reid finagle us out of it again, and we remember," Caleb said with a shrug.

"So what's up?" I was having trouble keeping in mind the fact that I was supposed to be avoiding all four of the so-called Sons of Ipswich.

"Nothing, really. Just wanted to find out what Reid liked about you so much." I stopped dead, shocked.

"What?" The dark-haired boy smiled again, but now that I was looking at him dead-on, I thought I caught a glint of wariness, of watchfulness, in that warm gaze.

"Well, he talks about you a lot."

"Saying he _likes_ me?"

"Of course not. He says you're irritating."

"I don't follow."

"Usually, Reid doesn't talk about people. It's not his way. I figured he must hate you or like you, and since I doubted he hated you, I thought it must have been the other one." I folded my arms.

"Huh. And have you figured it out? Why he supposedly likes me?"

"I don't think it's a random attraction anymore. I think you just confuse him, and probably annoy him, too." Feeling oddly disappointed, I started walking again.

"Oh." Caleb caught my arm.

"Don't get me wrong; I think it's great. He needs someone he can't push around or seduce." With that, he jogged off again. I watched him go with a frown. Two more days until the full moon. Someone he can't push around or seduce, eh? Well, because of my heightened state, I knew he wouldn't be able to push me around.

The other one, for the same reason, I wasn't so sure about.

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"All I'm saying is, I don't think she's a threat."

"Oh, and you would know this, right? Because you spend _so_ much time with her, after all." Caleb sighed.

"I talked to her today, and-"

"Wait, you _what_? I thought we agreed to just keep an eye on her!" Reid was angry. The closer he came to ascension, the easier it was to tick him off, and that had never exactly been a challenge. The whole Kat thing was, in Caleb's opinion, a mere suspicion that was being blown way out of proportion because of how tense the younger boy was. To tell the truth, it was starting to get on Caleb's nerves.

"Well, apparently _you_ haven't adhered to that decision, either! According to her, you're practically stalking her!" Reid snarled at the dark-haired boy. He didn't know why he was so mad, why he'd gotten so mad so quickly when Caleb started talking about Kat. Oh, that was a lie. He did know why.

He was afraid. Afraid and confused and jealous, if he was completely honest with himself, and those were three things he absolutely hated to be.

There were five days left before his birthday, when he would ascend. Ascend as Caleb had done. Five days before everything would change. Sure, Caleb had been fine. He had come through the ordeal stronger and more in control than ever. But Reid? Well, even if he never admitted it aloud, even if he protested vociferously every time one of the other three brought it up, he _used_ more than any of them. Even now, he could feel it like a hot pull in his gut, a silky-soft, seductive call that spoke of power and oblivion. Could he resist, when the time came? Was he strong enough?

Now, at the worst possible time, Kitty Teague had appeared. Strange, fiery, sarcastic, vulnerable Kat who had, in less than a week's time and with less than two hundred words between them, become so much more than just a diversion. He didn't know what to make of her, and he didn't like that. He found himself unable to just give up on finding out her secrets, and that annoyed him, too. Hell, he wasn't even attracted to her! Or was he? He didn't know. There was something about her… she was pretty, but so not his type. And it didn't matter either way, because he didn't like her in the first place, right?

And now Caleb was talking to her. Caleb was befriending her. Reid hated the fact that he had, for no reason at all, become so stupidly possessive of the girl. He felt like he was the only one who could figure her out, like he had sole rights to her. _I'm the one who saw her first. I'm the one who teased her, and I'm the one who sensed whatever's weird about her. She's mine, damn it!_ What exactly she was his _for_, he didn't know. Didn't really want to know, actually. It was the ascension. He was sure of it. Caleb had become practically obsessed with Sarah right before his ascension, and he'd been so testy and emotionally charged, too. Now, the same thing was happening with Reid, only he didn't have a girl to fall madly in love with, so he was instead obsessing about figuring out what bothered him so much about Kat Teague. There was nothing he could do about it.

Still annoyed the hell out of him, though.

So now, when Caleb started his 'Kat's-not-a-threat' spiel, Reid wanted to hit something.

"Stalking her? I am not stalking her! I ran into her in the library, that's all!"

"And said what?"

"Nothing!" He threw his hands up and stalked over to the fridge of Caleb's kitchen, pulling out a Coke.

"I'll grant you, she's not the most open person out there. She doesn't take any shit, and maybe she's a little caustic at times. But you know who that reminds me of? Oh, that's right, _you_!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Reid muttered. There was a long, heavy pause as he downed half the soda in one swallow. Caleb narrowed his eyes: the blond's hands were shaking, visibly shaking. He took a closer look at Reid's face, for the first time noticing the circles under those sharp blue eyes and the way his normally light, quick features seemed to tighten with tension and fatigue.

"Reid," Caleb said hesitantly, in a much quieter voice. "If you want to, you know, talk about what's going to happen five days from now, I'm here, okay?" The younger boy shook his head.

"I'm fine, man," he said, equally calmer. "Just drop it."

"And Kat?"

"I won't do anything stupid, Oh Great One. I promise." The old, not-quite-unfriendly sarcasm was back in Reid's voice, and Caleb couldn't help the rush of relief. It was startling, really, how true what he'd told Kat actually was. Reid was the obnoxious one, the risk-taker, the prankster… and he was, too, a brother. They all were. Looking again at the younger boy's drawn, defiant features, Caleb suddenly wondered what it would be like it Reid _weren't_ there; what life would be like without his embarrassing, usually hilarious (if they weren't on you) tricks, his caustic, wicked humor, his rebellious, live-for-today attitude, and his powerful (if generally unspoken) loyalty. "I doubt Sarah would like the way you're looking at me, old boy," Reid said suddenly, obviously uncomfortable with Caleb's thoughtful gaze. "Not that I'm not flattered, but…"

"Oh, shut up," Caleb retorted. The cabinet behind Reid's head blew open, smacking the blond in the back of the skull before closing again. Reid yelped, snatching his hand to cover the bump, glaring at Caleb.

"And you yell at _me_ for _using_?" Caleb grinned.

"It was a worthy cause."

"Yeah, I'll remember your definition of 'worthy cause'. Six days from now, you're gonna be in a world of pain, my friend." With that, Reid shot a last look of mock resentment, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going," Caleb called as the younger boy reached for the knob of the kitchen door.

"Back to the house. I gotta get some stuff." Caleb noticed how Reid deliberately didn't say 'back home'. "See you."

"Yeah," he responded, watched the door bang shut. "See you." Suddenly, Caleb jogged to the door and leaned out. "Reid!" The other boy was halfway down the front steps, and turned.

"What?"

"You can stay here tonight if you want. I'm moving some stuff around tomorrow morning, and I could use some help." There was a pregnant pause, in which Reid stared the older boy hard in the face. Caleb could almost see the debate going on: accept Caleb's charity, masked though it may be, or have another silent, no-heating-bills-paid weekend night at the house he no longer could bring himself to call a home.

"Maybe. I gotta go."

"Okay. Later, man."

"Yeah."

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Friday night, I didn't sleep. Well, I did sleep, but I got no rest from it. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying desperately not to look at the window for the first few hours, and then fell into an uneasy doze for a while. Tossed and turned, the works. Dreams? Thank God, there were none. If I dreamed so close to the full moon, I don't think I would even bother sleeping. I know what would be in them.

Too well.

What Caleb had said rung in my ears, about the Sons. About Reid. It only made me more curious. What bound them so closely? Were they just long-time friends? All with the same otherworldly scent that made the animal in me more alert than I'd been since that time in California that I _wasn't_ thinking about ever again? Riiight. And I had not imagined the way Caleb had looked at me, had not imagined that wariness. They knew something. Or at least suspected. How? How was that possible?

Worrying about that kept me from really sleeping, as did the pull. It was near constant now, putting me on edge both at night and during the day. I wanted, needed to Change. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter… the pull would be just as strong until after the moon waned again.

And, to add to my problems, I'd thought I'd seen something… something out of the corner of my eye, which could have been anything at all: a car slowing, a parent stopping by, maybe even a student arriving late. Still, even as I explained it away, the flash of long, black car I'd seen idling outside the Academy gates on my way to History earlier that day, with the barest glimpse of a woman leaning out the passenger side door, her red hair glinting in the sun… it was bringing back memories I'd much rather have forgotten. About _that time_. When I almost, almost got caught.

Shuddering the memory away, I rolled over again and told my body to sleep.


	8. Discoveries

Chapter Eight: In Which Much Chaos Occurs, or 'Secrets Were Meant To Be Discovered'

AN: This is it, dudes and dudettes! The moment of truth! (Plus some yumminess on the Reid/Kat front…)

"Hey, look, man," Tyler said with a grin, punching Reid's shoulder lightly. "It's your girl." Reid looked up from his shot, resting his gloved hand on the base of the pool cue.

"Huh?" Tyler jerked his head to the left. Glancing over, the blond saw Sarah and Kate moving towards the dance floor of Nicky's, each dragging one hand of a reluctant-looking Kat. She was shaking her head, her loose hair (for once; usually she braided it) falling down her back like black water tinged with bone. This thought rang a bell somewhere in Reid's mind, but he couldn't place from where. Suddenly, Kat laughed out loud, and yanked her arms towards her, pulling Sarah and Kate to walk beside her instead of in front. Reid felt a funny twist in his stomach at that laughter. He frowned. "She's not my girl, Ty. Remember the part where I keep telling you guys to watch out?"

"Yeah, yeah, you know you want some of that." Reid glared at his friend, but said nothing, knowing that he was the only one Tyler was ever so openly non-shy with. He shook his head, leaned over, and began to take his shot. "Oh, look, she's found some guy. Never mind, you must be right," Tyler added airily. When Reid tensed, the pool cue slipping just a tad, Tyler started to whistle.

"Cut it out," Reid snapped, straightening.

"Cut what out?" It was Caleb and Pogue, carrying drinks.

"Tyler's being a jackass."

"Why, what'd he do?" Tyler, quieter now, but just as gleeful, took his drink from Pogue and smiled.

"Just pointed out that that chick Reid's obsessed with is dancing with some other guy."

"I am not obsessed with her, and I don't give a damn who she dances with." Caleb glanced at the younger boy, gauging his level of annoyance.

"Well," he commented after a moment, "it'll be harder to keep an eye on her if she's all over another guy. What if he gets possessive?" Caleb kept his tone ambivalent. He still didn't think Reid had much to go on for his Kat theory, but it was clear that the blond _did_ believe it. It was also clear that he was, in fact, jealous, which Caleb took as a very good sign. When he'd talked to Kat, she had been visibly (though he was sure she hadn't thought so) disappointed when he'd told her that he didn't think Reid was attracted to her. Now, though, Caleb wasn't so sure. Thus, getting Reid to go dance with Kat solved two problems at once: it would assuage the blond's temper (maybe) and give him a chance to further his investigation of the girl.

"Good point," Pogue added smoothly. "Might wanna go talk to her, Reid."

"Yeah, you know, maybe you're right," Tyler said, taking his turn. "You don't want her. But you do think she's weird, right? So what better way to find out what's strange about her?" Reid looked from one boy to the next before throwing down his pool cue with an exasperated sigh.

"Will it shut you guys up? Is that even possible? Fine! Whatever!" With that, he stalked off towards the dance floor. Caleb glanced around.

"Well. Usually it's _us_ saying that about _him_."

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Kat wasn't sure what to expect when Sarah showed up at her house, which Tyler must have given her directions to, and invited her to go to a bar/dance club called 'Nicky's'. She wasn't sure, too, if she should go at all: it was Sunday night. There was no school Monday, so that wasn't the problem.

It was the full moon.

But they'd only be out until eleven or so, Sarah had assured her. Kate, Pogue and Tyler all had to work early the next morning, apparently to make up for too many skipped days. It would be fine. It would be safe.

Gulp.

So she had pulled on her favorite green halter top and black jeans, and had left her hair down. Now, she was on the dance floor, a young man with spiky brown hair dancing close to her, her lupine 'mones acting up like crazy. Tonight was the night. She was ready for anything. She wanted a fight, she wanted sex, she wanted everything. Which was fairly dangerous, but Kat was certain of her control. She'd had years, after all, to perfect it.

Suddenly, a hand came down lightly on her shoulder and spun her around.

"Sorry, man, I didn't know she was taken," the guy with spiked hair said, moving on to another girl in a short blue dress. Kat found herself staring up at an irritatingly familiar quicksilver face, unreadable blue eyes and fine blond hair. Reid's hands slid down to her hips, his thumbs brushing across her stomach. When he'd spun her around, she'd landed so close to him that their legs were touching with every move.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Care to dance?"

"Not with you." Despite her words, her hands were snaking up his chest, feeling the fibers of his gray shirt, and coming to rest around his neck. She forced her fingers not to play with the hair at the base of his neck, forced herself not to purr with satisfaction as his own fingertips brushed the ribbon of bare skin between the waistline of her jeans and the hem of her top.

"Yeah, I can tell," he said with a hint of a smirk. Then, it fell away. "I've been wondering about you, Kitty Teague."

"Really?" She heard the throaty sound of her own voice and was horrified. She was coming on to _Reid_ on the night of the full moon. Baaaaad idea.

"Really."

"There's nothing to wonder." She noticed he was maneuvering them somewhere, but couldn't see where.

"You're hiding something. I want to know what it is." She laughed.

"Why would I tell _you_?"

"So you _are_ hiding something." She stopped laughing. Kat suddenly felt very, very sober. She was still aware of every move they made, but the giddy high of the near-Change was lightened. They were playing what had the potential to be a very dangerous game indeed.

"I'm not the only one," she responded after a pause. "You are, too. You and your friends over there." Reid's eyes narrowed.

"Oh yeah?" She didn't answer. "How about a trade? You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine, this whole stupid thing can just go away." Kat smirked.

"Like I trust you enough for that. Like I trust you at all, actually." As their voices dropped with intensity, their bodies were getting closer and closer together. It was driving Kat crazy, but she couldn't act on it. Not now.

"It would be a fair trade," Reid said silkily. "We wouldn't need trust."

"You wouldn't tell me the truth and you know it," Kat replied, her voice far breathier than she would have liked. Her back was almost the wall, and she realized where he'd maneuvered them. "What are you doing?"

"Screw this," Reid muttered, and without warning, took the last step that pushed her against the wall. She felt his chest against hers.

And then they were kissing, hands grabbing shirts and waists and shoulders, her back pressed against the wall, his body so close that when he breathed in, she breathed out in sync. The wolf exploded out of Kat, senses heightened almost painfully, smelling and tasting nothing but him. Her hands clawed up to tangle in his hair, pressing his head closer. He slid his own hands up her back, fingers tracing along her spine beneath her shirt, his palms warm against her skin. Kat gave a soft moan, her lips parting, and Reid, too far gone to care that he had not intended this to happen at all, took the chance to deepen the kiss. She could feel it building inside her, the Change, her passion tipping her over an edge that she could not resist. Desperately, she pulled away from Reid, who looked just as shocked as she felt, and, ducking under his arm, ran blindly for the door. Had to get out, had to be alone, _had to Change_. She could still smell him, that metallic-honey scent mixed with lust and a wild confusion, as if he had not meant to kiss her in the first place.

"Kat! Wait!"

"Get away from me," she screamed over her shoulder, racing through the alleys behind Nicky's. Reid was behind her, trying to catch up, and now the smell she caught from him was strong with strangeness and tinged with anger or fear. It was becoming too much. She couldn't run anymore. Fool, fool, fool! Dropping to her hands and knees, she panted. Reid's footsteps were getting closer.

"Kat," he called again.

"GO AWAY! Get out of here! GO!" She could hold it back, but not for much longer. Not- much- Oh god, it was hard!

"Finally," she heard another voice say.

A woman. Oh, no. Not now. Not here.

Heels clicked on pavement. Red hair glinted in the moonlight.

It was her.

"It's been a long time since California, hasn't it, Kitty-cat? Or maybe not that long at all."

"Who the hell are you," Reid asked bluntly. Kat looked from him to the woman who had hunted her down and come so close, so close, to catching her, and now somehow knew her name. Too much. It was too much.

She couldn't hold on.

"I almost had you in California, but now there's no way you can escape. Not even with Mr. Garwin here to help you." Kat stared at her. What? She saw Reid staring too, and there was something weird about his eyes. They were darker, much darker, but she couldn't quite make them out in her dazed state. She needed to Change, and she needed to Change _now_.

"I didn't get to say this in California," Kat gritted, toes curling with power as she stared at the redhead. "_Back off, bitch!_" And then she couldn't speak, could only gasp with exquisite pain as her human jaw elongated, her back arching, her knees rearranging themselves with small pops. Fur sprouted across her skin, and she barely had time to throw off her shirt and shimmy desperately out of her jeans before the Change ruined them. A cry of beautiful agony turned into a howl, and brown eyes turned yellow-gold. As she rose to stand on four paws, the redhead pulled out a pistol and fired once. A burning pain spread across Kat's left shoulder as the hit glanced off her. It was too late to worry about Reid. She couldn't afford to worry about what he'd think. She could only try to protect him and herself from- Wait, what?

A pulsating, glowing orb of- of _something_ had just hurtled through the air past Kat in her wolf-form, hitting the redhead squarely in the stomach. The woman looked surprised as she flew through the air, slamming into the ground hard. Kat wheeled around to see Reid standing there, arm outstretched, eyes now clearly visible with her improved night-vision: they were completely, eerily black.

"Come on, before I remember that I'm an asshole who doesn't help anyone," he said, voice filled with an otherworldly, dangerous calm, the kind of calm that was laced with hidden frenzy, that made her quick to listen. Turning, they raced out of the alley.

He led her, ducking through back roads and down town streets, keeping a surprisingly fast pace, to a large, well-to-do house. There was no car in front of the house, and Reid didn't hesitate to lead a wolf inside what she presumed was his home.

"When I come back," he said, backing out of what looked like a living room, "try to have lost the fur."

Kat had to think about it, had to physically and mentally force herself to Change back. Having made the Change already, her body allowed the shift, and in a few minutes, she was human again.

And naked.

Swallowing hard, still in shock, she stumbled over to the couch and grabbed the blanket that was casually tossed over the back. Still bleeding, she pressed the corner of the plaid against the long slash on her shoulder leading down her back, wincing as strands of fabric caught in the wound. Thank God it had only been a graze, though… Wrapping the blanket around the rest of her, she settled gingerly on the cushions.

She heard footsteps, and then the blond entered again from a door to the right of the couch where she sat.

"So," he said, coming to stand in front of her. "We need to talk." His eyes weren't black anymore, and he didn't have that haunted, frenetic menace about him. Instead, he looked angry, and tired, and alert. There was no trace of the Reid she'd thought she'd known, at least a little, and Kat remembered Caleb's voice: 'He's a good guy to have on your side… then he'll pull something completely out of the blue…'

"Uh," was all she managed to say before he caught sight of the red-stained corner of blanket.

"Shit, you're bleeding."

"It's nothing," Kat protested, not wanting to put herself at any more of a disadvantage than she already had, if that was even possible. Reid rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, can't have you die on me when I've finally figured out what's so weird about you," he said. "Let me see."

"I said I'm fine, already!" She was tense, too tense. Too much had happened that night, and the pull from the full moon had only gone down a little with the actual physical Change.

"You got blood on my blanket," he stated baldly, and then knelt next to the couch and reached for her shoulder to turn her torso so he could see her back. Before he could touch her, Kat sighed and turned, letting the blanket sag enough to bare her back before it pooled around her waist, holding it up beneath her chin with both hands.

"When she fired, the bullet grazed along my shoulder," she informed him unnecessarily. Judging by his soft curse, Kat figured that what had happened was pretty apparent. Suddenly, the accusatory rush of the chorus of Tool's 'The Pot' rang through the silence of the room, and Reid flipped open a cell phone.

"Not now, Caleb," he said tersely. Kat's enhanced hearing picked up the other boy's angry voice.

"You _used_! Are you insane? You only have-"

"I'll explain later," Reid snapped, and flipped the phone closed again, slipping it into the pockets of his jeans. When it rang again immediately, Kat saw him turn it off. He turned his attention back to her wound.

"So," Kat tried, "I guess I need a band-aid?"

"Wait here. Don't move." _Yeah, because of course I'm going to run out of your house in nothing but a blanket._ He brought a bottle of disinfectant, a packet of gauze, and a roll of white medical tape. Off her look of surprise, he gave a slightly sheepish half-grin.

"When you get into as many fights I do, you learn to keep this stuff handy." She hissed as he cleaned the cut, but he worked quickly and efficiently, and in less than a minute, he was pressing strips of medical tape against her skin to keep the gauze bandage over the slash. Looked like he did have some practice with this kind of thing after all.

"Thanks," she said reluctantly. Reid shrugged, capping the disinfectant and pulling a chair over from across the room and sitting, crossing his long legs at the ankles. His left arm he folded over his stomach, cupping his right elbow in the palm of his left hand, biting the nail of his right thumb.

"So. What the fuck was that?"

A loaded question if there ever was one.

"Uh, which part?"

"All of it."

"Well, you did some pretty freaky stuff, too. I deserve an explanation just as much as you do."

"You first," he granted, gesturing at her with his right hand before bringing it back to hover pensively in front of his mouth. Kat sighed.

"True confessions, huh? Fine. As you've seen, I'm a werewolf." Reid nodded. Kat frowned. "Why exactly aren't you in the least bit unnerved by this? I just turned into a wolf in front of you!" He shrugged.

"I've seen some pretty scary shit," he said. "Couple months ago… well, that's over, but when I first figured out there was something weird about you, I thought you were… something else."

"How did you know I wasn't perfectly normal?"

"You sniffed me. More than once. And you just struck me as off, somehow." She blushed bright red.

"I sniffed you because you guys smell different. All four of you, but you especially. It's been driving me crazy. That's why I avoided you, because I couldn't afford to risk being found out while I tried to figure _you_ out." He snorted.

"That went well."

"Yeah, well, none of this would have happened if you hadn't… at Nicky's…"

"Hell, I don't know where that came from," he admitted, sounding annoyed. She shifted, and noticed that his eyes, almost involuntarily, followed the movement, clear blue narrowing as the blanket slipped subtly from her shoulder. Heat burned slowly, sweetly in her stomach, and she forced it down as he continued. "And it was just as much your fault as mine. And what about the redhead, the one who shot you? Does that kind of thing happen often?"

"No," Kat replied, folding her arms. This action pulled at the wound on her back and shoulder, and she bit her lip with pain. "She… in California, before I came here, some stuff happened, and I almost got caught. She was the one who almost… She tried to kill me. I figured since she didn't know my name or anything, I was fine, but… Now she's here, and apparently she knows a lot more than I thought."

"How did she know _my_ name?"

"I have no idea," Kat said honestly. "I didn't even know she was in Ipswich at all…" She trailed off, remembering the black car she'd seen idling in front of Spencer Academy. "Or I didn't realize it was her. So now I've told. Your turn."

"The Sons of Ipswich are witches," Reid said with a bluntness that rivaled her own. "Or warlocks, I guess it would be. We're descended from the Salem witches that survived the burnings and then fled here." Honestly, what does one _say_ to something like that?

"Oh," she managed. "Uh, what exactly can you do?" Kat remembered the glowing orb that had quite possibly saved her life. Her breath caught as Reid's eyes turned black again, the whites eaten up by darkness, and the couch she sat on lifted into the air a few feet before gently setting back down again. His eyes bled back to their normal blue, and he smiled slyly.

"Anything." Kat swallowed.

"Oh," she said again. _Her_ secret seemed like small fries now... then again, _she _was the one being shot at. "Is that what Caleb called about? You… what did he call it, _using_?"

"You heard that?" She tapped her ears.

"Enhanced hearing."

"Right. Yeah," Reid admitted, frustrated. "I'm not supposed to _use _until a few days from now."

"Why not?"

"The ascension. Addiction is a no-no."

"Huh?" He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. Caleb's gonna be pissed anyway when I tell him about this." Kat panicked.

"Wait, tell him? You're going to tell him about me?" Reid spread his hands.

"You know about us. You've got blackmail aplenty. Relax, Kat. They'll find out eventually anyway, and you know it. That bitch knows who I am, and she obviously knows what I can do. She doesn't seem to give a damn about murder, so I doubt I'm any safer from her than you are. Plus, if she knows about me, chances are she knows about the other Sons, too. You don't get to have all the fun by yourself anymore, babe."

"Damn," she cursed sarcastically. "And don't call me that. Fine. I guess you're right. We have to tell them."

"I'll call them in a minute. I want to let Caleb stew for a while." There was a brief silence.

"Oh," Kat said awkwardly. "By the way. I, uh, at Nicky's…"

"What, you mean the part where-"

"It was because of the full moon. It heightens my senses and amplifies any emotion." Reid grinned.

"Meaning you want me anyway, and just acted on it because of the moon or whatever."

"No," she said haughtily. "Meaning it was a mistake, and it was out of my control, and it won't happen again." He rolled his eyes, mouth tightening just a tad.

"Whatever. Like I said, I don't know where that came from. You're right. It was a stupid mistake. I'm gonna make those calls now," he continued, expression smoothing over as if nothing had happened. Kat swallowed.

"Where are we going to meet them?"

"I can get them to come over here," he offered.

"Won't your parents mind? Or do they know about… about you?" Reid snorted.

"My dad's been dead for years."

"What about-"

"Oh, she knows," he said lightly. "She just doesn't give a damn about me. She's not here, anyway. Don't worry about it. I'll call the others now." Kat wanted to say something, wanted to sympathize, but something told her that trying would be a very bad idea. So she just sat in silence, clutching the blanket around her, as Reid went into another room, talking quietly into his turned-on phone. He came back with two sodas, and tossed one to her.

It seemed like mere moments before the door banged open, and three teenaged boys spilled into the house.

"What the hell, man?" That was Pogue.

"Where'd you go?" Tyler.

"Why is Kat naked on your couch?" Caleb, of course. After that choice comment, there was a moment of utter silence. Reid smirked at her.

"Oh, don't worry," he said silkily, "they know I'm irresistible. It's not your fault." Kat hurled a couch pillow at him, yelping when she tugged the skin of her back. Caleb sighed.

"All right, people. What is going on?"


	9. Tease

Chapter Nine, In Which There Is Sarcasm, Fighting and Lusty Thoughts

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! (You know you want to…)

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Reid jerked his chin up, eyes focusing on Caleb.

"Before we explain, I'd just like to point out that _I was right_." I rolled my eyes, and had to stop myself from smiling. Even under all the stress that was piled on my shoulders, and despite the still-fresh memory of Reid's mouth on mine, he still managed to amuse me. Not that he could know that, of course.

Caleb frowned.

"What do you mean? Kat, what's going on?" His eyes darkened. "Reid, did you-"

"I know," I blurted out. "About you four. The whole magic thing, I mean."

A moment of silence. I held my breath. Would Caleb blow up? Would he be furious with Reid, with me? Would he try to deny it? Slowly, the older boy let out a sigh.

"This whole 'covenant of silence' thing is coming along _really_ well, boys," he said. "Good work."

"Yeah, well," Reid said with a shrug, "do the names 'Sarah' and 'Kate' mean anything to you?"

"Hey," Pogue interjected. "We _had_ to tell them. And Sarah pretty much found out on her own."

"Excuse me," I said, raising my hand. "But, um, that's not all." Three sets of eyes came to rest warily on me, and Reid just lounged back and looked at the ceiling. "I'm… kind of…"

"She's got a case of the chronic fuzzies," Reid said lazily, his seriousness from before the others arrived either completely gone, or very well masked. I suspected the latter.

"What?" Tyler, along with the rest of them, looked confused.

"She's a werewolf," he clarified.

"You have got to be kidding me," Caleb said, staring at me with a quirked brow. I huffed out a breath and sneered at him as elegantly as I could manage dressed in a plaid blanket, shaking my head.

"Every full moon she turns into a ravening beast with… interesting… hungers," Reid said dramatically, eyes still on the ceiling. I glared at him, not appreciating the suggestive twist to his words and the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"I'm loup-garou," I told them.

"French," Pogue said under his breath. I nodded.

"Reid suspected me from the beginning, apparently. Just as I sensed something strange about you four. You smelled different; your power had a certain scent to it. It was driving me nuts, wondering what the hell was up with you guys."

"It was driving Reid there nuts, too," Tyler muttered. "Not that that's saying much, all things considered."

"Hey," Reid protested.

"So," Caleb said, flopping down on an armchair. "You know about us, we know about you… How did this happen?" I glanced at the blond, who gestured at me.

"Your court," he stated. I swallowed, feeling exposed.

"Um. When I lived in California, I got hunted down by this woman. She didn't catch me, and I never saw her again. That was about a month before I moved. Then, a few hours ago, she appeared outside Nicky's. Reid and I were there, and it's the full moon, so I had to Change. She tried to shoot me, Reid… did something with a glowing ball thingy, and we ran." There. The night from Hell in two breaths.

"So you _used_ against this woman?" Reid nodded.

"She had a gun, man," he defended himself. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You know it's dangerous. You only have a few days left, Reid." The lazy air bled away from the lanky blond as he tensed in his sprawl, eyes now locked on Caleb.

"So I should have just let that bitch kill Kat?" His voice, contrasting with his language, was light and casual. His gaze was anything but.

"Hey, you don't know that she would have killed me," I interrupted, stupidly offended by his assumption. "I turn into a _wolf_, not a fluffy puppy dog!"

"She already grazed you," Reid said dismissively. "A gun against any animal isn't the best odds."

"Fuck that," I spat, dismayed at the words as soon as they left my mouth but unable to keep myself calm: the moon, despite my previous Change, was still full. I had been sitting still too long already, and tensions were high. "I could have handled myself." Ignoring, of course, my earlier thought that Reid's little energy ball had saved my life.

"What would you have done, gone and ripped her throat out," the blond asked sarcastically, his anger at Caleb now turned on me. I stiffened, fully prepared to take on that anger and match it with my own. A werewolf is made of passion, be it sex, fight or fury. I couldn't have the first, and I'd already had the second. Time for the third.

"Yes," I snarled in response to his offhanded question. "That's exactly what I would have done!" The other three Sons were watching Reid and I, and I could practically feel the power roiling off them in waves: they were waiting, waiting to see how far the two of us would go.

"I saved your life, you-" In a flash, I was off the couch, ignoring the sharp pain from my wounded shoulder and back, the blanket falling from my quicksilver form as I shifted in the air, hitting Reid in the chest with my forepaws and knocking his chair over backwards, sending him sprawling to the ground with me pinning him down in my wolf form.

When Caleb and the others shouted and started moving, eyes rimming with fire and turning black, I turned my head and put as much humanity into my yellow eyes as possible: back off. I've got this. Caleb's eyes narrowed, and I felt a twist in my gut: this boy was smarter than I'd thought. They stopped moving at a sharp gesture from him, and I turned back to Reid.

Growling low in my throat, I stared at him. The initial surprise had faded from his face, to be replaced with anger.

"Get off me," he snapped. I bared my teeth. _Helpless, am I? Damsel in distress, am I?_

Suddenly, a burst of breathless agony exploded in my stomach and I was thrown off of him, landing on my side. Instantly, I scrambled up to all fours and drew my lips back in a snarl, ears flat against the sides of my head. Reid, panting, raised himself onto his knees and stared me down, hands in a ready position at his sides, eyes completely black. His blond hair fell across his face, and his mouth was twisted in a feral, deadly challenge. Instead of making him ugly, this animal-snarl on his human face only added to this damnable attraction. The full moon coursed through me, giving my breath an extra, forbidden sweetness that fed the fire in my chest and told me to _move_.

Just as I lunged, ready to pin him again and force him to admit defeat, Reid leaped for me, ignoring his friends' cries of dismay. We connected in midair, wolf and human, and suddenly my mind was filled with a Technicolor vision of me kissing Reid, complete with feel and taste and smell. Utter surprise took me, and before I could stop it, I Changed back out of instinct. There was a slam, and I yelped.

I was flat on my back, human, my shoulder screaming with pain, eyes wide and shocked. Reid was lying on top of me, breathing hard, eyes still black as he caught his breath. I stared at him, caught between fury, shock and mortification as his eyes turned blue again and he realized, apparently for the first time, that I was naked.

"What did you do to me," I hissed, hesitant to push him off me while I wasn't wearing anything and he was the only thing keeping me from flashing everybody in the room.

"Mindblowing, wasn't it?" His voice dripped sarcasm and smugness, and I hated him for it. I remembered him saying, in response to my question about what he could do, 'anything'. So mind-control was part of the deal, too?

"Caleb," I called, "would you go find me some clothes?"

"Sure," he said, and I really wished I could see his face to read what that tone in his voice was.

"Reid," I said, snaking my hands up his chest. Well. If I couldn't Change in this position, I damn well could use my other weapons. I made my voice as husky and seductive as possible. "That was… impressive. Very vivid." I could smell the discomfort coming off Pogue and Tyler, and I held up my middle finger in their general direction before resuming my slow perusal of Reid's back.

"It's a gift," he breathed.

"I've got some other nifty gifts as well," I purred, my hands now playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. My body was reacting, of course, to being naked under Mr. Garwin, but I forced it back and used, instead, the anger that still filled me. He had made a fool of me, and that just would not do.

"Oh, really?"

"Too bad," I murmured, my voice a throaty hum, before I darted my fingers up and grabbed both of his ears, nails digging in as I gripped them, "you won't ever get to see them!"

"Ah," Reid bit out as I twisted his ears. "That-really-hurts!"

"I know, baby," I hummed, smiling at him. "I'm a werewolf. I like it kinky." Caleb cleared his throat from behind me, and I could hear the grin in his voice when he spoke.

"I found some of Reid's stuff. I would have gotten something of your mom's," he continued, now speaking to the blond, "but her door's locked." Reid didn't answer, choosing instead to glare daggers at me. "Much as I like seeing Reid getting what he deserves, if you let go of him, I'll give you the clothes. We'll all turn around, right?" This was directed to all the males in the room, who made noises in the affirmative. Well, except for Reid, who just curled his lip at me.

I let go of his ears and he rolled off me, but not before very deliberately stroking a hand from just below my left breast to my hip. I disguised my gasp with a cough, catching the clothing that Caleb dropped in my lap.

The four Sons of Ipswich turned their backs as I pulled on a pair of gray sweats that were a little too long for me, but would work, and a fading Sex Pistols T-shirt that came down almost to my knees.

Great. Now, not only had I made an enemy of Reid, I was also going to smell like him for days, too.

And no, there was no way in Hell I was happy about that. Not at all. Never. As if.

Right.


	10. Capture

Chapter Ten, In Which Several Bad Things Take Place

AN: Aaaannndd, ladies and gentlemen! It's time to find out what's up with Ms. Red Hair! Oh, and a special thanks to all of my lovely reviewers, because I don't think I can say this enough: reviews seriously make my day. They mean people read my stuff, and have things to say about it, which is amazing- hey, you all are probably writers as well as readers, so you know what I'm talking about! You probably know perfectly well that a writer whose day has just been made writes faster than one whose day… has been unmade… er… annnyyywaayy, that was my not-so-subtle attempt to get y'all to keep on reviewing! Now, enough of my yammering, on to Chapter Ten!

That bitch. That _bitch_! Literally! How _dare_ she?! After I saved her furry ass, let her in on our secret and bandaged up her stupid little scratch?! Seething, I stalked over to lean against the cold fireplace, folding my arms across my chest and tucking my fingers beneath the opposite shoulders in order to keep them from reaching out and strangling her.

Look at her. Standing there swamped in _my_ favorite sleeping shirt (which of course Caleb picked for her, the bastard), gingerly holding a hand to her shoulder where she'd been nicked by the bullet earlier, all that hair loose across her back. Oh-so-innocent, hmm? Psh. Caleb and the others were openly grinning at her, plainly admiring her little ear-murdering move. Damn, but that girl didn't have fingers _or _claws, she had freaking _pincers_!

Glowering at her wasn't having much effect. I felt a burning in my cheeks, and cursed my fair complexion: I was flushing with an obnoxious and horrifying mix of embarrassment, anger and lust. Damn it, I'm a teenage guy! _Of course_ I got turned on by having a fairly attractive nude girl lying under me! But why oh why did it have to be _this_ _particular_ girl? Fate hates me, I swear.

And I had to admit, despite my newfound dislike for all things Kat Teague, she looked pretty adorable in my clothes.

At that very moment, the girl in question gave a huge, dog-like yawn, complete with tongue-curling and a faint, high-pitched sigh. Tyler smiled, as did Pogue. Caleb's eyes twinkled, and I felt like kicking them all. Now they all thought she was _cute_, didn't they? Aw, look at the sweet little _vicious temptress _of a werewolf, with her wide yawns and big, shiny eyes!

I was not amused.

"I doubt that that woman, whoever she is, will come after you again tonight, Kat," our Fearless Leader said warmly. "She waited a month last time, and chances are she won't attack again so soon. You should go home, get some sleep. Make sure to lock the doors and all, though I think we can all see you're capable of taking care of yourself."

"I'll drive you home," Tyler offered shyly, and Kat smiled at him._ That's right, Baby Boy, be all caring and compassionate. Pussy. _I wisely kept my inner commentary to myself.

"Thanks," Kat said. "You don't have to worry, by the way. I can control myself." I snorted, and she studiously ignored me.

"We'll get in touch with you tomorrow, okay? And if anything else happens, let one of us know," Pogue said, also warmly, but with a hint of the stony seriousness he could assume in an instant. I eyed him, knowing he was remembering what had happened to Kate. Damsels in distress. Get him every time. Ah, who am I kidding? They get me, too. Only the damsel I decided to rescue wasn't exactly brimming with gratitude, now was she?

"I'm gonna want those clothes back," I called as Kat and Tyler headed for the door. She didn't answer, but waved a hand dismissively at me. I huffed as Caleb and Pogue clapped me on the shoulders, snickering, and walked out. Just as I was about to go find myself some of my mother's liquor, Kat stuck her head back through the front doorway.

"Thank you," she yelled, sounding as if it hurt to say the words. Then, she was gone. I frowned, shrugged, and shook my head.

Women.

88888888888

When Kat got home, aching and exhausted, she said goodnight to Tyler and slipped into her darkened house. There was a note taped to the front banister of the stairwell that she almost didn't see. Pulling it off the old wood, Kat scanned her eyes across her father's blocky, all-caps writing. '**CALL NEXT TIME**', it read. A brief rush of guilt flooded her chest, followed closely by affection for this man who was her father.

Folding the note, Kat continued up the stairs to her own room. She tossed the piece of paper on her empty desk and flopped face-first onto her bed, asleep before she hit the covers.

Unconsciously, the girl curled under her sheets and wrapped her arms around herself, drawing the warmth of the Sex Pistols shirt closer and inhaling, with a smile, someone else's scent.

88888888888

"I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that. Foolish of me, really. I knew, of course, about his powers, but I didn't think he'd risk succumbing to their seduction for the sake of a girl he barely knows. I suppose I should reevaluate, yes? I took him for a thoughtless punk, but now I'm thinking he's more of a sort of elegant young tough. Rescuing damsels in distress. That attitude, though… that will have to be dealt with." The voice faded in and out, blurring like music notes on a wet page.

Slowly, woozily, Kat opened her eyes. The lids stuck together a bit, but when she blinked, she managed to squint them open. Her head felt heavy, and her mouth was dry.

She was lying down on something soft and plush, like a giant stuffed animal. Groggily, Kat pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked around.

Bars.

Cage.

What?

It was true. She was curled on a large cushion, surrounded by metal bars. Trapped in a girl-sized birdcage. Swallowing in order to get some of the dryness out of her throat, she tried to make a noise, but all that came out was a sort of dry, husking cough.

"Oh, you're awake. Finally. I was getting tired of talking to myself." A slow, delighted smile. "You've caused me a great deal of trouble, Miss Teague. Though now that I know your name, you were much easier to track. I would have done my business with you at your house, but I felt that wouldn't exactly be wise, so here you are." It was the redhead, dressed in a green silk kimono, standing elegantly near the cage. Kat swallowed again, and this time, managed to speak.

"Who are you?" Not the best question, perhaps, but better than wasting her breath with curses. The woman raised her hand to her breast.

"I am Mary Harcortte, High Priestess of the Order of Sappho," she said proudly. Kat blinked at her. Sappho? As in the poet? "We're a highly feminist occultist sect," Mary Harcortte clarified. "And I'm terribly sorry, because I'm sure you're a wonderful girl, but sacrifices must be made to pave the way to greatness." Kat had no idea what she was talking about, but the whole 'sacrifices' thing did not sound good.

"What," she croaked, before falling silent again. Harcortte smiled indulgently.

"Reid Garwin will ascend in two days. That is the flux of power, when he is both strongest and most vulnerable. In all the lines of Ipswich, no girls have ever been gifted. It was the tragedy of Salem, really: the women that burned were very rarely actual witches; usually, only males had the power. Now, though, the five lines running from Salem have been tainted until the gift is _only_ bestowed on boys." Kat coughed, and felt her throat clear some.

"Why come after me," she managed. "I have nothing to do with-" Harcortte laughed.

"Oh, my dear, you just have extremely bad luck. Even in California, it wasn't you. The Sons of Ipswich have been my targets all along." Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Harcortte answered the unspoken question. "There is a ritual that will remove the power from one of the Ipswich lines at the moment of the eldest son's ascendance and allow it to be shaped and anchored elsewhere. I mean to harness Mr. Garwin's power and bestow it upon my coven so that it will be inherited by our daughters, instead of these five, power-corrupted families. The ritual is quite simple, really. Only one thing was hard to find: the lifeblood of someone non-magical, but more than human. That, of course, is where you come in. I was going to collect your blood in California and store it, but you evaded me then. Last night, Mr. Garwin, surprisingly, came to your rescue. I no longer had the time to plan another attack, so I just waited until you went home and spirited you away. Now, I'm going to give you a choice: would you like to stay in the cage until Wednesday morning, or would you prefer I just killed you now and saved you the despair?"

Kat stared at Mary Harcortte, mouth open, a Sex Pistols-adorned teenager in a gilt cage.

_Oh_, she thought blankly. _Well, shit._

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"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Teague?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's, um, it's Caleb Danvers. I'm a school friend of Kat's."

"Oh, are you friends with Sarah?"

"Yes, she's my girlfriend."

"Oh, well, that's great. I met Sarah. Real nice girl."

"Yes, sir, she is. Ah, is Kat there?"

"No, she hasn't gotten back from school."

"School?"

"Yes. It's a common institution these days, I hear. Speaking of which, why aren't you in school, young man?"

"We didn't have school today, sir. Teacher work day."

"Ah. Well, then, I don't suppose you know where that girl is, then? She wasn't home when I went to bed last night, by the way. Was she with your crowd? Were you having a party or something?"

"Uh. No. No party. We went to a dance club, that's all. Did you see her this morning? Did she mention anything about going somewhere?"

"No, I didn't see her. Hmm, that's strange, isn't it? I suppose she was still asleep when I left for work."

"Well, when she gets home, could you ask her to call me? Or Sarah? She's got the number."

"Sure thing, Caleb. You have a nice day."

"You too, Mr. Teague." Caleb hung up the phone with a frown, rubbing his jaw.

"So? Where the hell is she? Why hasn't she called one of us, or come by?" Pogue looked worried, and Kate rubbed a hand down his arm. The dark-skinned girl had taken the news about Kat's true nature with the same grace that she'd had when Pogue had told her the truth, as had Sarah. It helped to have supernatural boyfriends before finding out about supernatural friends.

"I don't know, and neither does her father. He was already in bed when she got home last night, and he didn't see her this morning or, for that matter, at all today."

"Well," said Sarah, "maybe she just slept in late and then went out for something."

"Yeah. That's probably it. I mean, she did have a pretty busy night last night," Caleb agreed with a faint smile. In the corner of the room, Reid said nothing, but stared moodily at his gloved hands.

"If that's it, then why do I have this annoying feeling that my favorite shirt's in danger?"

"Your shirt or the girl that's wearing it?" The blond didn't answer for a moment, and then he rolled his eyes.

"I always sleep in that shirt. I'm having withdrawal symptoms, that's all," he said with a self-deprecating grin. "Come on, guys. Let's get out of here."

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Danny Teague, forty-five, married nineteen years, divorced six months, was experiencing, not for the first time, a severe disorder commonly known as 'teenage-child-itis'. He sat at his kitchen table, trying to focus on his new spy thriller, every once in a while glancing at the clock on the wall across from him. It was 7:53 PM, and he had not seen his daughter in twenty-four hours. Her friends, apparently, did not know where she was. She had no cell phone. She had not come downstairs to greet him that morning. She had gotten home late the night before… or had she? He felt the first stirrings of real concern on top of the annoyance and offense that came with being ignored by his child, and got up decisively.

Kat's father, having been home for three hours now, decided to go ahead and check Kat's room. Maybe she'd left a note, and he'd just been too stupid to look for it. Speaking of notes… He ran a hand down the front banister upon reaching the stairs. The slip of paper he'd taped there the night before was gone. For some reason, this did not reassure him. There was a strange, low-down foreboding filling him, edging along the corners of his being and urging him up the stairs.

Pushing open Kat's door, Danny glanced around the room. It was messy, though they'd only lived in the house for a week or so, but the desk was completely clear except for a folded piece of paper. Stepping over a pair of jeans, he reached out and took the paper, staring down at his own handwriting. She had gotten home, found the note, gone to her room. He looked at the bed. The sheets were straightened, the blue fleece blanket neatly folded down. _Kat never makes her bed._ As he watched, the corner of the fleece waved a little. He looked to the window, which, naturally, should have been closed to keep the chilly breeze out.

His throat felt tight and constricted, and he went slowly to the open shutters. There, on the white paint of the sill, right beneath the spot where a badly hammered nail jutted from the frame, was a small, inconspicuous smear of blood. He touched it, found it dry. Leaning out, he could see a patch of lawn, and the road. Looking down, he saw that the lawn beneath the window was a different shade than the lawn to the left, as if the blades of grass had been trod upon, bending them differently.

There was a sudden loud tolling sound, and he jumped. It was eight o'clock in the evening, and Kat was not home. Kat had not been home this afternoon. Kat had not been home this morning.

In that moment, one finger still on that solitary spot of red, staring at the place where someone had stood beneath the windowsill, Danny Teague discovered what horror was.


	11. Tension

Chapter Eleven, In Which There Is Emotional Insight

AN: I wasn't gonna post this today, but… well, obviously that whole plan pretty much fell through. This is for all of you, but especially for Greendoggie, who pointed out that I wasn't really saying much about Reid's feelings in general. So hopefully this helps clear things up!

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Sarah answered the phone expecting Pogue or Reid, or even Tyler, but it was an unfamiliar voice that spoke into her ear.

"Hello, is Caleb there? Caleb, uh, Danvers?" Sarah frowned. The man was speaking quickly, the words almost stumbling over themselves.

"Yeah, just a sec," she said, raising her arm and waving to her boyfriend. Caleb was perusing the jazz section of the music store they were in, having given his jacket to her earlier. The phone had been in the jacket pocket, and it had startled her when it rang. Caleb jogged over and, with a quick smile for the blond girl, took the cell.

"Hello?"

"It's Daniel Teague, Kat's father. Have you seen her at all today? I know it's kind of late, and I'm sorry, but-"

"No, no, it's fine. It's only 8:20. I haven't seen her, no," he replied, unconsciously gripping the phone just a little tighter.

"It's just, she hasn't been home at all, and there's no note. Her window was open when I checked her room, and, um, the bed was made. Sorry. I must sound crazy, but Kat, she never makes her bed. I just… I was hoping you knew something, you or some of those other people she hangs out with. Sarah? There was another girl, too- Kate, was it? Do they know anything?"

"No, none of us have seen her. My friend Tyler gave her a ride home last night, and he said she went into the house, so…"

"Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe… I'm sorry, Caleb, I don't mean to unload my worries on you."

"No, Mr. Teague, it's okay. I understand. We'll look around town, if you want. The places we took Kat, I mean. See if she's there."

"Would you? That's great. Thanks. Call if you find anything, okay?"

"Sure. And… if she's not home by tomorrow…"

"Twenty-four hours is the rule. I know." The man gave a short, cleansing sigh and Caleb could practically see him shaking his head. "Thanks again. You're a good kid, Caleb."

"Thank you, sir. I'll tell the others, and we'll start looking." When he hung up, Caleb looked at Sarah. His dark eyes were troubled. "Kat's missing," he said quietly. Sarah's chin leveled and her eyes hardened with determination.

"Not for long."

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"Yo, it's Reid, I'm busy with some Chinese triplets here, so… if you don't mind… BEEP." Caleb swore into the phone.

"Reid, you really need to change your message. And come on, pick up the phone!" A sigh. "Look, man, Kat's disappeared. We're meeting at the bluffs. Be there." The message cut off, leaving no trace of the call except a silently blinking red light on the side of Reid's black Samsung phone.

"I think your phone just rang," the brunette with the pierced tongue said, glancing at him over the top of her beer.

"What?" She leaned forward across the table, flashing a smile at the petite blond woman who was slipping a hand up the back of her shirt, and spoke louder over the music.

"I said, I think your phone just rang! It's that black one on the table, right?" Reid glanced at the phone, quickly scanning the front panel: 'ONE MISSED CALL: CALEB'. He rolled his eyes.

"Boy can't even let me have a night out on my own," he muttered in disgust. "It's okay, guys, just my tightwad friend." The blond laughed as the brunette settled back against the booth.

"Good thing you have us to hang out with, Reid. Wouldn't want you growing a stick up _your_ ass, too," she said. The red-haired young man slouching in the corner of the booth nodded.

"Yeah, man," he agreed. "I mean, those other three guys you're always with, they're pretty cool. But still, sometimes a man just needs his own space, you know?" Reid grinned and slapped the table.

"Come on, ladies," he called, eyes on the blond and the brunette sitting across from him, who were now kissing, the girl with the pierced tongue stroking the blond's hair. "Either get a room or make this a show worth watching!"

"Shut up, Reid," the blond said amiably, breaking away from her girlfriend with a smile. "Stace and I aren't your personal porno, you know." Reid spread his hands innocently.

"Well, can't blame a guy for trying," he sighed. "Hey, Rube, you wanna play some pool?" The redheaded boy straightened a bit.

"Only if I get Amelie on my side," he said, reaching out and snagging the blond's sleeve. Reid groaned.

"I was talking some one-on-one, man! Don't drag Am into this!" Stace chuckled, wrapping an arm around Amelie's waist.

"You're just scared 'cause you know she's better than you." Before he could retort, the black phone started buzzing again. Reid heaved an irritated sigh.

"Maybe you should answer it," Rube suggested, leaning his elbows on the table. "Could be important."

"Yeah, I bet," Reid grunted. "Like, 'Make sure to get home before midnight', and 'Don't get smashed'. Thinks he's my mother, I swear to God." The phone buzzed insistently. Stace pursed her lips before reaching out and grabbing it, flipping it open and pressing it to her ear.

"Hello, Reid Garwin's answering service," she said smoothly, holding a hand over Amelie's mouth to stifle the giggles. Across the table, Reid was grinning. "I'm sorry; he's in a very important meeting with Angelina Jolie and Carmen Electra. May I take a- what?" She listened in silence for a moment, her hand falling away from Amelie's lips. The other girl's smothered laughter died down as her girlfriend's forehead furrowed with distress. Slowly, Stace hung up the phone before setting it back down on the table. Looking at Reid, she cocked her head.

"What? What is it?" Rube was half-grinning, as if he thought this was still part of the joke.

"That was Caleb," Stace said. "He said to tell you that they're meeting at the bluffs in fifteen minutes because Kat has been missing since last night." There was an instant of silence. Stace looked serious. Amelie looked concerned. Rube looked confused. Reid's grin was still on his face, as if he'd forgotten how to take it off. Slowly, it slipped and jerked away. Reid reached out and took the phone from the table, putting it carefully into his pocket. He stood.

"Who's Kat," Rube asked, quieter now, eyes locked on the blond boy's strange expression: a near-unrecognizable mix of surprise, denial and something the redhead could not place.

"Missing, apparently," Reid answered, sliding out of the booth. The strange look slid off his face, and he gave a quirky little smile. "Again. The girl runs away all the time. I think she does it for attention." He heaved a sigh. "Well, better go track her down. Sorry, guys. I'll catch you later." With that, he headed for the door of the club, walking calmly, hands in his pockets. Once he was gone, Amelie looked around at the two remaining people in the booth.

"Did anyone else find that weird?" Stace nodded and took the blond's hand, lacing their fingers together.

"The boy on the phone," she said softly. "Caleb. He sounded… like it was serious. Way more serious than a girl who runs away all the time for attention." Rube laughed, a little uncomfortably, but not liking the solemnity that was settling over the two girls.

"Ah, come on. This is _Reid_, my friends! Like he'd ever get himself into a situation any more serious than how to evade the evil ex!"

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Somehow, I hadn't thought about it like this. You know, like, 'she's gone'. Actually, I hadn't really thought about it at all. I'd just kind of assumed that what Caleb had said was true: that Kat wouldn't get attacked again soon. And when I got that crawling feeling in my stomach, I'd passed it over like it was nothing. Just worrying about my stupid goddamn shirt, right?

Unbelievable, I know… but I just hadn't really considered the thought that something like this might actually happen. How dumb is that? How fucking blind? I slammed my fist against the steering wheel of my mother's car, which I'd cheerfully stolen earlier that afternoon, and shot my middle finger at a truck driver who honked when I sped past him.

Now that it _had_ happened, I was stuck in a weird kind of limbo. Part of me was basically shell-shocked: didn't know what to think, what to do, what to fee- no. No, there were no feelings involved here. None…

Then, there was the other part of me. That part was screaming, raging, furious. I was horrified at the way the darker, baser half of my brain was telling me to hunt down whoever had taken Kat, and destroy them. I was shocked at the anger in that inner voice, and at the strength. Most of all, though, I was freaked at the foreign, primal instinct that was whispering low in my gut, each syllable crawling up the knobs of my spine: _take back what's yours_.

What. The. Hell? Reid Garwin does not go all caveman over girls. Reid Garwin does not feel the urge to kill in order to win _back_ a girl. Reid Garwin does not…

My inner Caleb was saying something, and I did not like it. My inner Caleb, righteous dweeb that he is, was saying something extremely, stupidly, offensively ridiculous.

Because, most of all, for the safety of himself and others, because it is the smart, easy thing to do, Reid Garwin does not fall in love.

888888888888

I was hungry. Way hungry. Haven't-eaten-in-over-a-day hungry. I hadn't even had lunch the day before the night I was kidnapped, and now it was the next evening and Mary Harcortte had not given me a single thing to eat. I guess it didn't really matter to her whether I starved or not, as long as I bled. Cynical? Who, me?

And believe me, I _was_ starving. The Change… it takes something out of you. Energy. A lot of energy. Enough energy to completely rearrange your entire genetic code, more or less, and to do it more than once. While you're Changing, there's a certain adrenaline that keeps you going… but after, you need a lot of sleep, and a lot of food.

Neither of which I'd had.

Because frankly, I don't count drugged oblivion as sleep, and I'm pretty damn sure I was drugged.

So now, I was pacing my tiny prison, forcing myself not to sit down. Not to appear weak. But God, I was getting weak. Finally, near tears but unwilling to let them fall, I sat back down on my cushion and glared, as balefully as I could, at the video camera in the corner of the room. She goes to all this trouble, and then doesn't even bother to stay in the same room as me? Maybe it was guilt. Somehow, I doubted it.

Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead on my knees.

"Goddamn motherfucking sonofabitch," I muttered, hearing my stomach growl. This sucked so bad it wasn't even funny. Not that it had ever _been_ funny.

I focused on the hunger, and the anger, in order not to succumb to the fear. Because oh, yes… there was fear. I was trapped. That was the first thing. I'm a wolf at heart, a wild animal, and we do not deal well with captivity. It was taking a big chunk of my willpower and self-control to keep from giving in to claustrophobia. Then, there was the part where I had one more day to live.

If, that was, Ms. Mary Harcortte had her way…and damned if I was gonna let that happen without a fight.

Besides… they would come for me. They had to. They had to know I was missing, and who had taken me. They had the whole magic thing going for them, right? They'd be able to figure it out.

I sniffed, and got a noseful of Reidsmell: a pepperbasilspice scent tinged with that metallicy magical edge.

He would come for me.

_Please, God, let him come… because as much as it hurts to admit this, I can't do this alone._


	12. Forsaken

Chapter Twelve, In Which The Search Begins, and Kat Strikes A Nerve

"So what's the plan?" Six teenagers stood in an uneasy, yet solid circle. Arms were folded, heads were tilted, tensions were high.

"We look for her."

"'Look for her?' Thanks, man. Way to use that brain." Reid scuffed a foot against the ground in disgust. "She could be fucking _anywhere_." Tyler reached out a hand and laid it on the blond's shoulder, who shrugged it off impatiently. "This is stupid. Meeting here is not going to help anyone."

"Oh, and going all vigilante is? You can't find her just because you decide that's what you're going to do," Pogue said. Reid stared at him.

"Says the guy who went riding off on a suicide mission when Chase-"

"And _look what happened to me_," Pogue gritted. Kate twined her fingers through his and met Reid's eyes.

"He's right," she said. "You know he's right."

"Okay, guys," Caleb interrupted firmly. "_Here's_ the plan. We split up. Pogue, Kate: you two go to Nicky's. Ask around there; see if anyone has seen her. Tyler and Reid, you take the old part of town; check the abandoned houses where someone might go to hide out. Sarah and I will check hotels and the outskirts. If anything happens, get in touch with the others, no matter what. Do not try to do anything stupid," Caleb added, looking at Reid, who stared back blankly. The mask was up, and the danger was mounting.

"All right. Let's go."

88888888888888

"Hey, anyone here seen the girl we brought with us the other night? Pretty girl with black hair, and a white streak down one side?" Heads shook as sultry girls took in the long hair and biker clothes before sneering at the beautiful dark-skinned girl standing close.

"Come on, people, are you sure? No one's seen her? The name is Kat, Kat Teague."

"No, man, we haven't seen her. Up for some pool?"

"Come on, Pogue," Kate said with a sigh. "Let's ask over there."

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"Have you seen a girl with black hair, and a white streak down the side?"

"No, sir."

"What about a red-haired woman? She would have checked in last week sometime, or maybe sooner."

"I'm sorry, sir, but our records are confidential." Sarah leaned over the desk, clasping her hands together.

"Please," she said, the desperation in her voice not completely feigned. "She's my mother, and she's kidnapped my younger sister. The woman is insane. We have a restraining order, and we thought she'd never find us here, but she did. Please, please, if you've seen her, tell us." The clerk stared at the blond girl, taken aback.

"Um-"

"Sir, I'm begging you," Caleb added. "We may not have much time before Kat's gone forever."

"Kat?"

"My sister," Sarah clarified. "The girl with black hair and the streak. She went through a Goth phase." The man sighed.

"Give me a name." Sarah paused.

"I'm not sure what name she's going by now. I doubt it's her real one, though."

"Redhead, right?"

"That's right."

"I think I did see her, come to think of it. Checked in a few days ago." Caleb closed his eyes.

"Thank God," he muttered. Two hotels and one motel, and _finally_ someone knew something!

"But she hasn't been back since yesterday."

"That's when she took my sister," Sarah said tearfully. Caleb hugged her supportively, and she winked at him while her back was turned to the clerk.

"She's going by the name…" The man typed something, scanning his computer screen. "… Mary Harcortte. I'm afraid that's all I can do for you."

"Thank you, you've done more than enough," Caleb responded sincerely. "We can go to the police with a name, now."

"Good luck. I hope you find your sister. Terrible thing to have happen."

"Yes," Sarah said fervently as they exited the hotel, "it is."

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"So where do you want to look first?" Reid glanced at Tyler.

"There's dozens of old houses and abandoned warehouses around here. Ipswich is ancient," he answered noncommittally. "It could take hours, hell, _days_ to find them all."

"That's true," Tyler agreed warily. "But Caleb said-"

"Who cares what Caleb said? There's something happening here, Ty, and I don't like it. It has something to do with Kat. All I know is, having her missing like this is driving me crazier than having her around… so I gotta find her, you know? I gotta find her, and get her the hell out of my system. If she's okay, I think I can just leave her alone. But if she's _not_ okay, I'm never going to get this feeling out of me!"

"'This feeling'? Reid, man, you know you're falling for her, right? If not already fallen?"

"Yeah, fallen straight into a snake pit. Listen, Ty, it's not like that. She's not my type at all."

"Why not?" Tyler looked at his friend, eying Reid's death-grip on the wheel of his mother's Camry as they sped towards Historic Ipswich.

"Well, she's too smart, for one thing. And she's sarcastic, obnoxious, gutsy one moment and shy the next, a liar, tricky, and basically evil. Plus, she's not even human."

"Technically, neither are you."

"Not the point. I'm more human than she is. She's a _werewolf_, for Christ's sake."

"So why did you kiss her?"

"I have no id- Wait, how did you-"

"Best friend, man. I know all."

"You wish," Reid scoffed, but not without a nervous glance at the dark-haired boy. After a moment, he bit his lip. "You don't… uh, you don't think I really… I'm not…"

"Sure, Reid," Tyler said. "If you say you're not completely into her, I believe you."

"Yeah, well, you'd better. Ok, back to my first point."

"Which was?"

"Looking through all of these houses and shit? That's gonna take forever."

"So what do you suggest?" The blond didn't answer, but his lips curved slyly upward, and his eyes seemed to flicker. Tyler frowned. "No. _Hell _no."

"Come on, Baby Boy," Reid said, the lightness of his tone masking steel. "Let's break the rules."

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Mary Harcortte knelt in front of the cage, holding a plastic bottle of spring water. She looked in at the girl, at her Kitty-cat, and smiled.

"You should be so proud," she said gently. "You are helping to bring about a wondrous change." She tossed in the water bottle and watched as the girl caught it, sniffing it warily before gulping down half the bottle. Long dark hair with that one odd streak fell messily across her face, and Mary couldn't help but flinch just a tad at the ferocity in those brownish-golden eyes. Kat Teague crouched on her cushion, the water bottle clenched in one long-fingered hand, watching the priestess with a look of single-minded fury.

She didn't speak, only stared.

"It won't hurt," Mary felt necessary to add. "I'll make sure of that."

The girl padded over to the bars, dropping the water bottle as she went. Her hands curled around the steel, and she pressed her face against the metal.

"You're doing this for Sappho," she asked softly, her voice startlingly quiet and calm. "For your… goddess?"

"For Her, and for my coven," Mary answered, seeing no reason not to.

"Will Reid die when you take his power?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "He cannot survive the shock of receiving and losing such great power all at once."

"So you're killing two people for your… whatever kind of religion you follow? For your coven?"

"Sacrifice is necessary to achieve the great goal I have in mind, girl." The teenager held Mary's gaze for a long moment before she seemed to come to a conclusion. A small, secretive smile touched her lips for an instant, and then it was gone.

"If you do this," she whispered, so softly that Mary had to lean closer to hear her, "you are forsaken." With that, she turned her back and sat on the cushion, ignoring Mary's gasp of rage.

_I am not forsaken for doing what I must, _Mary thought angrily. _Fool of a girl doesn't understand what she's taking part in! _

As she left, Kat listened to the door slam… and smiled.

Just as she'd thought.

"Oh," Kat murmured, taking a ridiculous amount of pleasure in having gotten to the bitch. "Did I hit a nerve?"


	13. Danger

Chapter Thirteen

AN: I can see this scene in my head, and I want you guys to see it too, so I'm writing it a little differently from the other chapters. Hope it works!

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"Are you ready for this?"

"What, are you kidding?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Reid says, his voice a low, whispering torrent that rips through Tyler like an electric shock. They are standing on the roof of one of the first large inns in Ipswich, built in 1878, abandoned for twenty-three years now. It is dark, the moon high in the sky, just a sly shiver away from full. A brisk, secretive breeze whips through their hair, sending their jackets billowing.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, man? Even if you weren't less than two days away from ascending, it's dangerous. Hell, _I_ don't want to-" Reid raises a hand, his fingerless gloves a sharp contrast against the smooth paleness of his skin. His hands, in the dark, in the moonlight, have an unearthly glow to them. It outlines the long, elegant fingers, the short nails, the deadly strength of those youthful tendons. When he looks at Tyler, his eyes are wide and wild and his smile is quick and reckless: a lightningflashrainbow of teeth and promise. Tyler feels the excitement, the rush. It shoots through him, quickening his breath, a burning tingle in his palms and toes.

"Let's do it," Reid murmurs. He is the elder, the rebel, the mentor, the lonely, the angry, the fearless, the friend. In Tyler's eyes, in this moment, he is God. The younger boy straightens, breathes in. He tastes wind and blood in his mouth, and feels his lips curl up in a daredevil grin to rival his blond companion's.

"Fuck _safe_," he declares, throwing his head back with a laugh. "Let's find your girl!"

Reid's eyes burn fiery moltenhot, a hellish, wickedly beautiful flame that, in an instant, tears through his irises and leaves them, as well as his whites, pure black. Tyler's do the same, and across the town, Caleb and Pogue let out soft, harsh curses… but it's too late.

Moving in unison, breathing in sync, the wilder half of the Sons of Ipswich quartet steps smoothly off the top of a five-story building, supported on nothing as they rise above the town. Reid looks to Tyler.

"Take it away!" The other boy nods, and they reach out. Hands meet in a hard clash, skin-to-skin contact exploding with power as they combine strength and will. Twin pairs of jet-black eyes close, squeezing shut. Together, they See.

_woman man together naked bed sheets sweat _

_FLASH_

_girls laughing arms looped walking smell of popcorn and perfume blond hair and brown hair short skirts and jeans _

_FLASH_

_child bedroom gray walls all gray tears oh no daddy don't hit me don't hit me don'tdon'tdon't_

_FLASH_

Tyler's breathing hard, gasping, almost.

"Oh God," he grits. "It's too much. There's too much!" Reid's grip tightens to the point of sharp, fresh pain.

"_Hold on_," he forces out, body tensed with effort. "_Hold on_."

_boy sleeping blood on the sheets nosebleed sleep sleep wake up see oh god my nose shit its on the pillow shit shit gotta clean it up and_

_FLASH_

_asking so many people all these people nobody's seen her no one knows she's gone gone little lost kat gotta keep looking keep asking pogue baby come on we gotta ask over there they might know someth_

_FLASH_

"How many people are _in_ this fucking place?!" Tyler's bitten his lip. It's bleeding. Reid smells the coppery metallic scent and laughs.

"Don't know, man, but- ah!" He breaks off and convulses in the air, bombarded by someone else's thoughts. "We'll find her! We'll- find- stay focused! _Hold the hell on!_"

_cold its cold and im all alone here all alone hungry so hungry stay strong oh god please please help me help me reid reid no no one can help me no one please help me reid please caleb tyler help me come find me come on damn you fucking damn you to hell you fucking bitch you'll pay you'll pay pogue caleb come on come back here you lunatic i got to you before and i can get to you again you_

"That's her! That-"

And that's when the fast, angry, desperate voice that's tearing through both Reid and Tyler, a voice they both recognize, gives way to a wordless scream as she hits something; they don't know what, they only feel the shock of the blow and the harsh, mindless fury that's so strong they both flinch back. Their hands fly apart; the connection is severed; the voice is cut off. Cold shock floods each power-filled system, and two teenage boys plummet from several hundred feet in the air.

"Shit!" Reid's heart is a stone, falling as fast as he is. Tyler is shouting, arms windmilling, eyes brown and human and filled with terror. Wind whips by them, fast and cruel and cold as it bites their cheeks in passing. Reid can feel, in this moment that is so quick and yet so very infinitive, each of his molecules separating and drifting to mingle with the oxygen around him as he falls, becoming one with the air but not fast enough because his body, his flesh that has housed his spirit for so many years, is too solid and too dense and too heavy to be suspended no matter how terrified the pieces of his being are.

They're both shouting now. Screaming, mindless, thoughtless, helpless. The ground is coming, gaining on them, a hard and merciless abandon and falling, falling, closer, faster, faster, cold air and brisk wind and oh fucking god oh god oh no can't stop it can't stop it oh god gonna diegonnadiegonnadiegonna

and

freeze frame.

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Eyes open.

Breathing.

Silence.

In his mind, stillness. A poetry of living, of existing.

Pounding of the heart, sharp and loud and insistent.

Flat. On the ground.

Buzzzzzzzzz… adrenaline, coursing through him.

Blackeyes to blueeyes, all in a second.

That's all it takes, he thinks. A second. A push, a pull, just a little pressure.

Alive.

Dead.

A great and terrible knowledge takes hold of his mind, creating within him a void of recognition: he is alive. It is so strange that he is lying here, alive.

And then…

"Jesus fucking Christ." They sit up, slowly, gingerly. Half expecting the solid earth beneath them to fade, become transparent, translucent, not real. Half expecting the welcome ground to say, 'just kidding!' and disappear into a horrible dance of almost-thereness, of the ever-increasing closeness that is falling. Tyler looks at Reid, face drawn with a kind of wary relief.

"Whoa," is all Reid can say. He touches his forehead, his nose, his eyelids. Those eyes. Those magical, dangerous eyes that both condemned them… and saved them. And then they are smiling, grinning, laughing like madmen as they flop back on the earth and feel it hard and safe beneath them. "That was close," Reid wheezes, his body still trembling.

And they're alive.

And when they sit up again, Reid looks at Tyler and he's smiling, but it's a different smile now, because they both know something new. Something other than the glorious feeling of living.

They know where Kat Teague is.

That's when the rest of the adrenaline runs out, leaving them with nothing but the drain of _using _way too much in way too short a time, plus the utter shock to the system that comes with almost dying, and both boys collapse back to the ground, unconscious.

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I don't sleep. I can't. It's like, whenever I close my eyes, I see my own face in some nonexistent mirror, and I'm dead. A nightmare that plays on my own closed eyelids. So instead, I pace. I snarl. I drink water from this stupid water bottle. I imagine, quite vividly, ripping out Mary Harcortte's throat.

The strangest thing happened earlier. It was as if there was someone else inside my head, listening in on my thoughts. Like the slightest nudge against my mind, a nudge that seemed vaguely familiar, but it was gone almost as soon as I realized it was there.

Whatever.

If I get out of here alive, I swear that the first thing I'm going to do is tell my father I love him. Tell him the truth about what I am? I think not. But that I love him?

Definitely.

She cut me.

A little while ago. Just reached in before I could react and sliced my arm with a knife, wiping the blood off the blade with a little medical swab.

"Just for some tests," she said. What are you, I wanted to ask. A priestess or a scientist?

I said nothing.

I take stock of my surroundings, for the millionth time. I am in a cage. It is roughly six feet by ten feet, and the ceiling is solid steel. The cage is in a room, but the room is plain white. No other furniture save for the video camera in the corner. No way out save for the single door in the wall I'm currently facing.

No way out at all.

I shake my head, deliberately pressing down on my cut and hissing with pain. I'm being stupid and fatalistic. I've only been in this prison for what, almost a day? I cannot give up hope so soon. My timeline may be running out, but I am not a coward and I will not give into fear after a mere twenty-four hours of captivity.

I will not let her beat me.


	14. Countdown

Chapter 14. In Which The Clock Starts Ticking

11 AM

Waking up is easy. For me, at least. It's as if there's a switch, a dial, somewhere inside me that clicks from ASLEEP to AWAKE in seconds. It's the actual, physical _getting _up part that's hard. I've been told that this is because I am a lazy bastard, which is true, but I think it's more because I so much prefer comfort to discomfort, and sleep is almost always comfortable for me.

Almost.

Which is why, when my inner switch flipped my consciousness into vivid 3D, I nearly scared the shit out of Nurse Sarah as I jack-knifed out of bed. The sleep I'd just escaped from had not been a pleasant one, and let's just leave it at that.

Apparently, having someone kidnap and threaten to kill your… whatever Kat was to me… was bad for the nerves whether awake _or_ asleep.

"Jesus, Reid, you shouldn't be-"

"Yeah, whatever," I interrupted, not-so-reassuringly, judging by Sarah's expression. "Where're the rest of them?" She folded her arms and glanced at the door.

"Tyler is still asl-"

"Shit, man, don't jump up like that!" At the sound of Caleb's voice, muffled as it was by the walls, I smiled as jauntily as I could.

"You were saying?" With a sigh, Sarah opened the door and led me through. We were at our Fearless Leader's house, I noted. Frowning, I glanced at my watch. How long had we been out?

Eleven. Eleven o'clock in the morning. Ah, shit.

At that moment, Tyler opened a door on my right and our eyes met.

"Oh, man," he said. I nodded. As Caleb appeared behind Tyler, I curled my toes: no shoes. I found myself wondering if Kat had shoes or not. Probably not. My toes suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable in my once-white, now-grayish socks.

"What," began Caleb in his dead-serious, you-better-be-straight-with-me-or-else voice, "the _hell_…" He was drawing out his words, letting me get the full impact of the anger, the accusation in them. "…did you two do?"

"Doesn't matter," I said quickly, "because-"

"_Yes_, it damn well _does_ matter!" I stopped talking mainly out of shock at the look on Caleb's face. It was a look I'd only seen once before: when he was sitting by Sarah's bed in the hospital after rescuing her from Chase. It was anger, and pain, and a relief so great and so intense that I could barely even begin to quantify it. "When we found you," he continued, much quieter, "you weren't moving. Neither of you. We… I thought you were dead."

I blinked.

Well.

Hadn't quite thought of it like that before. Honestly? Hadn't even given the others, and what they would immediately think, a second thought. Briefly, before I could stop myself, I imagined walking along and finding Caleb and Pogue lying there, lifeless.

"So I want to know what the _fuck_ you were doing that almost got you killed," Caleb said, and I saw it. Saw it bare and clean on his face. Well, not completely. He was hiding it. It's just that they forget, you know? Caleb and the others. They forget that I can read them just as well as they think they can read me.

It was fear.

More than that. It was scared-out-of-your-mind fear. The High and Mighty Ascended One was freaking terrified, and all because he thought me and Tyler… that we were…

I cleared my throat. Back to business.

"We found out where Kat is. Put a… homing beacon, or something, on her."

"How?" Ah. Time to hedge.

"Well, it wasn't easy, but we did it. And we've wasted too much time passed out. Let's go find her, already!" Good. Defensive _and_ offensive, all in the same sentence.

"You _used_ way too much last night, Reid. You are not going anywhere. And, I need to know exactly what you two did. What the consequences might be." Oh, shit. Consequences. I'd kind of forgotten about those… but that really was not high on my priority list just then.

"Consequences? Let me tell you about consequences. If we stand around here talking much longer, Kat will be as dead as Ty and I weren't! How's that for a consequence?" I was getting mad. Good. Anger is something I can use, something I happen to be intimately acquainted with.

"Reid, we all want to help her," Sarah tried, holding up her hands in that peaceful way she has. I backed away from her, looking from Caleb to Tyler to Sarah. Their faces were all the same: a mix of understanding, compassion and decisiveness. Well, minus the decisiveness from Tyler, but that was to be expected. Point was, none of them had the expression I was looking for: fierce determination. For now that I'd snapped at Caleb about Kat, the memories from the night before were flooding back: Kat's ragged, angry, terrified thought-voice, and that mindless, helpless scream.

"Do what you want," I said, feeling it building in me. I could see the distress and disappointment sliding across Caleb's face, and part of me, the part that swore it would stand by my brothers until the end of time, cried out. I crushed it down with a vicious sneer. "I'm going after her."

Walking fast, I pushed past them had headed for the stairs that would lead me to the front door. Caleb reached out and caught my shoulder, half-turning me.

"Don't do this, man. Not alone." I looked at him, giving him that much. In his eyes, I saw my own reflection: warped, gaunt, stretched in strange and indescribable ways across the warm brown of his irises. I saw, helpless against it, a little blond boy playing in the sand with three other toddlers, tossing whitish hair back against the wind. Then, the vision cleared and it was me again, regular, teenaged me, staring at Caleb with wildness written across my face.

I shrugged off his hand, and felt the electric shock as it slid away: the static we always used to get, the four of us. The spark. We used to call it the Ziptie, because it always happened when one of us was scared or angry, and another one would put an arm around the hurting brother, and the spark would tie us together. Together forever, the Sons of Ipswich, no matter what. I felt that spark, that Ziptie, and started jogging down the hall. Over my shoulder, because I had to, I shouted something that no one but Caleb and Tyler and Pogue, had he been there, would understand:

"Still got my Zipties, bro!"

And then I was down the stairs and gone.


	15. Quickening

AN: _It's not over yet, guys..._

Chapter Fifteen: Quickening

11:43 AM

In a building, there's a room. In the room, there's a cage. In the cage, there's a girl.

Kat is asleep now, finally. It's not something she would ordinarily classify as 'sleep', because she takes no rest from it. Finds no peace. But her body rests where her mind won't, and the skin on her back tightens as the bullet wound begins to scab over and close. She's curled on the cushion, a loose, animal-like sprawl that bares only her back to intruders.

Mary Harcortte stands outside the cage, watching. She does not smile. She is impatient, and that simply will not do. The ritual will take place as planned, tomorrow morning, and no amount of annoyance will change that.

Although….

She supposes that the girl does not need to live to see the ritual begun, does she? After all, it's only her blood that's needed. No reason to keep her locked in this cage, left to insults and impotent snarls. It would be merciful, really, to kill her now.

Mary considers this. Mercy. Yes. It would show mercy; cut short the girl's suffering. She could do it in this quiet time, this half-light of slumber when Kitty Teague wouldn't even feel the bullet.

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_There's a shadow on the ground, leading in rainbowed rivulets straight to the moon. Curious, she follows it; her feet leave red prints on the earth. She crosses a pool of clear water, the pads of her toes leaving nary a ripple as she passes, and her reflection stares out at her. Is she wolf, or girl? She doesn't know, she can't see. There're eyes in the water, yellow-brown secrets that don't want to be told._

_There's pain, a foreign sensation that slides along her spine and hovers around her shoulder like a silky ribbon of molten silver. It reminds her of running._

_A hand falls on her shoulder, turning her. She is aware of a mask, up hiding her face, but she doesn't know what it is. Before she can see who turned her, she lowers the mask because it's burning, burning her face, her skin bubbling and blistering with heat as her hand convulses around the slender stick attached to the side of the mask. Horror fills her as the skin of her face melts from the bone, leaving nothing but a skull that she can see in the mirror that's suddenly in front of her. _

_**It's coming**__, she hears. __**Your time is now. **_

_**I can't**__, she argues, __**I'm trapped. I can't get out. **_

_**You are going to die**__, the voice replies. __**Reid is going to die. Everyone is going to die. **_

_**No. They'll come. They'll come for me, and they'll kill this bitch. **_

_**You are a match, and he is a wick, and when tomorrow comes, everything will burn.**_

_**No!**_

_**Your time is now. You must fight.**_

_**I CAN'T fight from a cage!**_

_**If you don't, you will die curled up like a mangy dog, and her plan will carry through. Get up. Get up!**_

_**Who **__are__** you? **_

_**GET UP!**_

Kat flipped off the cushion in an act of acrobatics she would never have been able to accomplish fully awake. The gunshot rang in the air, and for an instant, she stared at the hole that had suddenly appeared in the cushion where her head had been, the explosion of stuffing drifting towards the floor. Panting, Kat looked up. Mary Harcortte stood there, holding the gun with both hands, staring at the cushion with a look of mild disappointment. It was a moment of almost surreal calm: captor and captive, caught in a wrinkle in the fabric of things, perfectly still.

Then, Mary swung the pistol in a tight arc towards where Kat stood, and the teenager dove. The bullet ricocheted off a bar on the other side of the cage with a sharp clang, and Mary cursed. Kat's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it reverberate off of her ribs.

"Please!"

"I'm trying to help you," the priestess snapped. "I'm making it easier on you!" Breathing hard, fiery pain tearing down her back where the scab was ripped, Kat froze for a millisecond as an idea hit. Praying as fervently as she'd ever prayed in her life, she fell to her knees.

"Don't shoot me down like an animal," Kat begged, wrapping her arms around her stomach protectively as if it hurt there. "Put the gun to my head and kill me, but don't shoot me down." She let the tears fall, chest heaving. Mary Harcortte looked taken aback, and then compassion flooded her features. The annoyance and anger from before seemed to have faded away with Kat's desperation and submission.

"Come here, then, child," she said softly. "You are making the right choice. As I said, you should be so proud for what you're doing." _Oh, I am,_ Kat thought viciously. Outwardly, she just gulped and crawled on her knees over to the edge of the cage. Mary stepped closer, close enough so Kat could make out a small rip in the hem of her shirt, and raised the pistol. Kat closed her eyes, concentrating harder than she'd ever concentrated before. Now, the tears that were streaming down her cheeks were tears of effort rather than terror. She bowed herself over her stomach, feigning despair in order to hide what was really happening.

She felt a shiver that went through her entire body as the cold metal of the gun rested gently against her forehead. It was barely a touch, as if Mary didn't want to cause her discomfort. Kat restrained a shudder of disgust.

"Good night, child," Mary said, and hers was a tone of such pride, pleasure and regret that Kat felt sick.

_Now!_

As Mary took in a breath before pulling the trigger, Kat straightened out of her bent-over position, flinging out her arm. There was a flash of fur and claws as she slipped it easily through the bars, and Mary Harcortte let out a scream as Kat slashed the arm holding the gun. As only her hand and wrist had Changed, Kat could use her human flexibility to spring backwards and duck as the gun fired when Mary's fingers tightened reflexively. Then, the pistol fell to the floor and the priestess staggered backwards, clutching her arm. Blood poured from four deep furrows running diagonally from the inside of her elbow to the base of her palm, slicing straight through her wrist.

"You- you-" Kat ignored her, scrambling for the fallen gun. It was lying where Mary had flung it, just barely out of reach.

"No! No!" Kat pressed her shoulder up against the bars of her cage, stretching painfully. Her fingertips brushed against the metal butt of the pistol. "Come on!" She slammed herself against the bars, and her fingers hit the gun's base, spinning it away from her. "Sonofabitch! No!" The priestess was slumped against the far wall, but as Kat watched in horror, she pushed herself up. Her arm was held tight against her chest, staining her blouse crimson. An ugly look crossed her face, and she began to move carefully towards the gun.

"You little brat," Mary hissed. "How _dare_ you?" Frantically, Kat lunged at the bars again and again, mindless of the blood seeping from the reopened wound across her shoulder and back.

"Fuck! Come on! Oh god, please come ON!" Her fingers scrabbled desperately against the floor, searching for that cold metal salvation and finding only stone and air and then the gun was off the floor and in Mary's bloody hand, and a shot rang out an-

"Get away from her!" Kat saw Mary go down hard, not even making out exactly what Reid had actually done. The gun clattered to the floor, and the priestess lay motionless.

"Reid?" He didn't answer her, just walked up to the door of the cage and sneered at the lock. It exploded off the bars, and Kat realized that his eyes were black. The door swung open with a creak, and the blond shook his head sharply. His eyes returned to their customary blue.

"Hey," Reid said. "Let's get you out of h- Oh shit." He was staring at her chest. Kat looked down and saw red.

"Don't worry," she reassured him lightly, almost giddily. "It's not mi-" Suddenly, Kat stopped. Blinked. "Oh," she said vaguely, lifting a hand to the rapidly spreading pool of blood that was turning her- well, Reid's- shirt an entirely different color. "Um." She remembered the sound of the gun firing just before Reid intervened, and blinked again.

Reid just barely managed to catch her before she hit the floor, limp as a rag doll.

"Kat," he said, frowning down at the girl in his arms. Her head was cradled in the crook of his elbow, leaving her torso sprawled awkwardly across his lap. He could feel her blood, warm and wet, spreading to his jeans and the bottom of his T-shirt. "Wake up. Come on, Kat, we gotta- we gotta go. Kat?" He jiggled her head lightly, unsure as to what he was doing. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Her mouth was slack, her eyes closed. Her face, he saw, was pale. There was no movement, save for Reid's own trembling.

He bent over her, listening for her breath.

"Kat? Kat, wake up! Kat!" Her head lolled lifelessly as he shook her, pressing one hand against the hole in the center of the bloody mess that was her chest. Pressure, right? Keep pressure on the wound.

"Help! Someone! Help me!"

Silence.


	16. Trap

Chapter 16, In Which Our Heroes Get Some Bad News

Reid's mind was in a bloody, dizzying spin of shock and fear, along with a good helping of fury. Kat wasn't moving. His hands, arms and lower chest were covered with blood, and he could feel more of it pumping out of Kat's chest over his palms. He pressed harder, cursing. He'd knocked out the redhead with a quick mental jab, but that was about the extent of his finesse: he knew perfectly well that he was in no way skilled enough to _use_ in order to heal Kat, not without causing some major inner damage. When he'd fixed Sarah's car all those months ago, all it had required was a simple nudge of a part or two. That was far different than removing a bullet without ripping through another organ, knitting together flesh and muscle, replacing lost blood…

Mentally, Reid was shouting for the others. His first cry for help had been aloud, but obviously, that hadn't worked. Thank God the redhead didn't appear to have guards posted. A flutter of nerves somewhere inside him wondered why that was, but it passed with another warm wave of Kat's life on his hands.

"Shit! C'mon, Kat, don't die. Don't die on me, not now!" He bent his head towards her mouth, listening desperately for breath.

Nothing.

"Kat, you stupid bitch, wake the hell up!" Insults had always worked on her before, but they weren't working now. "Okay, please. _Please_ be alive. See, I'm begging! Oh god, Kat," he continued, leaning almost his entire upper body weight on the wound. "Okay. Shit. Okay. I'm gonna-" Without finishing his sentence, Reid pulled off his jacket and rolled it into a tight tube-shaped pad, pressing it between Kat's breasts, right on top of the bullet hole. He shifted, bringing his knee down on the pad to keep the pressure on, and pinched Kat's nostrils shut. Lowering his head, he sealed his mouth over hers and breathed into her mouth, once, twice. Drawing back, Reid moved his knee and replaced his hands over the pad, mind racing to remember his menial CPR knowledge. Thirty short, hard pushes later, careful to avoid worsening her wound, and Reid was bending over Kat again.

_If you are alone, continue CPR until paramedics arrive. If they do not arrive, after half-an-hour, there is almost no chance of resuscitation. _

Forcing himself to remain as calm as possible, Reid kept breathing. He breathed for himself. He breathed for her.

There!

Wait, was that-

Yes.

Weak, soft, barely there: an inhalation. He waited, frozen, and it came again. She was breathing. Just barely, but it was there.

"That's good. Good girl," he muttered, not really knowing what he was saying as he returned to pressurizing the wound. "Come on, guys, _hurry up!_" Swallowing, Reid undid the buckle on his black leather belt, yanking it through the belt loops of his jeans and tearing off the chain attached to it, throwing that to the side. He slid the belt under Kat's back as gently as he could, drawing it up over her left shoulder and below her right breast. He buckled the belt over the pad, creating a diagonal strap across Kat's chest, and tightened it until the pad was held hard against the wound. Then, stripping off his unbuttoned Oxford over-shirt, Reid folded it into a make-shift pillow and stuck that under Kat's head. He didn't really know what he was doing, but he figured she'd be more comfortable with her head off the cold floor.

Then, in just his bloodstained T-shirt and jeans, Reid stalked out of the cage and over to where the redhead lay. He bent down, grabbed her by the collar of her blouse, and dragged her over to the wall. He noticed that her shirt was bloody too, and then saw the deep, vicious cuts on the inside of her forearm and wrist. They were bleeding slowly, oozing crimson, and he had to smile.

"That's my girl," Reid murmured beneath his breath. He knelt by the fallen woman, wrapping one strong, narrow hand around her throat. With another stinging nudge, he forced her back into consciousness. As soon as her eyes opened, Reid tightened his grip until she was choking. "One good reason," he snarled. He watched her gag for air with twisted pleasure before loosening his grasp just enough so she could gulp some oxygen and answer him.

She gasped for breath as soon as he loosened his hold on her, but she didn't look nearly as worried as she should have been. In fact, she was almost… _smiling_.

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"This is where it came from."

"Then let's go!" Caleb held up a hand, stopping Tyler's movement towards the old house on Mitchell Street.

"Wait," he said. "Reid was calling for help. That means this isn't gonna be as simple as it looks." Pogue nodded.

"You're right," he said. "Something's not kosher here." They looked around. It was an ordinary-looking house, gray with white trimming. The lawn was unkempt, and the porch could do with some repair. The door was closed, and all the windows were shut. Two were boarded over. There was no sign of life, and no one stood guard over the house.

"I sense something, but I can't figure it out," Caleb said softly, closing his eyes. Tyler and Pogue concentrated on the house, reaching out mentally. In the car, Sarah and Kate watched the three Sons intently. Suddenly, Caleb's eyes opened. Moving swiftly, he walked up to the front gate of the house and flung out a hand. It connected with thin air and bounced back, creating the illusion of a solid wall.

"Oh shit," Tyler murmured. "She's a witch."

88888888888888

"Answer me, bitch!"

"Because," she said hoarsely, not even trying to fight him, "you can't kill me."

"Oh yeah?"

"You have-" She broke off, coughing, breathing hard, "- no choice." Soft, gurgling chuckles racked her frame as Reid's face tightened.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"No way out," she breathed. He remembered the lack of guards.

"What?"

"You will both die tomorrow," she replied. "Either let me live, and die by my ritual, or kill me…"

"And? What's so bad that'll happen if I break your miserable-"

"This building," she interrupted, talking easier now, "is protected by my coven's strongest spells. Only you were allowed to enter. I knew you would come for the girl… I knew you would come alone… and now you're both here…"

"What-"

"Don't you see?" She was definitely smiling now, a trickle of blood dribbling from her right nostril. "The ritual was always meant to be here. It's all been planned. This entire building has been prepared for it. You are standing in the middle of a spider web, boy, and the spider has been waiting for you." Gritting his teeth, Reid shook her.

"So what happens if I kill you now?" A bit of contempt came into her face and tone when she answered.

"And you call yourself a warlock… _I am the key_, fool, don't you understand? Without me, you cannot leave this house. No one can enter, and no one can escape. Kill me, and you're trapped here until tomorrow at noon."

"What happens at noon," Reid asked lowly, not wanting to hear the answer.

"The building will explode. If you're still alive when that happens, there will be nothing left of you. If your friends keep trying to break through my shields, as they're doing now, they will die as well."

"So you planned _everything_," he said slowly. "You meant for Kat to get shot, you meant for me to catch you, you meant for it all…" The redheaded witch bowed her head, looking at him slyly from beneath the tangle of her hair. The gleam in her eyes was purely triumphant.

"Check mate."


	17. Fear

Chapter 17

**AN: Hang on, boys and girls, 'cause the ride's just beginning.**

Reid knocked her out with a fast, solid punch. He didn't bother _using_, and not only because of the dangers. He wanted it to hurt. A lot. Unfortunately for his intentions, Reid was a lot stronger than most people took him for, his lean, lithe build hiding his strength, and it only took one hit to steal away the redhead's consciousness. Once she was slumped back against the wall, Reid hurried back over to Kat's body. She was pale, so pale, the black liner around her eyes standing out in sharp relief against her skin. Her lips, which, he recalled, had been a lipstick-ed shade of deep, purplish red on the night she'd gone missing, were now cracked and dry. The lipstick was mostly gone, having been chewed away nervously. What was left was a softer, gentler color: fitting, really, considering her current state. And yet, it also struck him as wrong. Kat wasn't gentle, wasn't soft. Without really thinking about it, Reid knelt beside her, reached out a finger, and wiped it swiftly across her mouth. His finger came away red, with both residual lipstick and blood. Her lips, though, were now a more natural shade of pinkish-pale, albeit stained on one corner with drying crimson.

"Shit, Kat," he murmured, eyes staying locked on her face. Bad as that was, he'd rather see the faint bruise on her temple and the chalky paleness of her skin than the bloodied pad on her chest. "What am I gonna do now?" He lifted a hand, not sure what he was doing with it, and let it fall again. He wanted to touch her, and he wanted to run. Slowly, Reid sat back on his heels. He reached out and picked up Kat's right hand, holding it carefully in both of his own. He felt for her pulse, then pulled away quickly, disturbed at the slowness, the feebleness, of the beat. He felt strange and awkward holding her hand, so he laid it gently back down across her waist.

Reid blinked hard, drawing in a long, calming breath. He let it out with a woosh, dropping to sit with his legs drawn up to his chest, and leaned his forehead on his knees.

There in the cold, lonely room, with two unconscious bodies, covered in someone else's blood, Reid was afraid.

He was alone.

For the first time in his life, Reid was alone.

Always, always before, they'd been there. When he'd needed someone, when he'd hated the world, when he'd wished they'd just go away, the Four had been together. Now, if what the witch said was true, that was no longer true. The others were not here. They would not come. His Zipties had just broken.

And…

As much as he hated to admit it…

He didn't know what to do. Had no idea, in fact. Hadn't gotten any further than making sure Kat didn't bleed out onto the floor, and getting some info out of the redhead. Now they were trapped, and they had less than fourteen hours at best to live. Always before in situations like this, Caleb had been there to make the decisions. Reid had bitched, disagreed, argued, resented… and had obeyed, in the end. As much as he might rebel with his own life, Reid had never been willing to risk everyone because of his own pride. He had always known that Caleb, when it came down to the bitter end, was the better leader, the better planner. Not smarter, per say, but just… better at this whole how-to-stay-alive-and-beat-the-bad-guy thing.

And now Caleb wasn't there, and Reid was left with Kat's life on his shoulders and no. Way. Out.

As soon as she'd told him that he was trapped, Reid had of course tested it with his powers. He'd felt the barrier that had been so cleverly concealed when he charged in, and knew it was the truth.

No way out.

Check mate, indeed.

"No," Reid uttered harshly, head still on his knees. "Not like this." He hated the sound of his own voice, the fear he could hear in it. He looked up, looked around, saw himself as from above. A kid, a lonely, helpless kid sitting in the upright fetal position next to a dying girl and across from an unconscious psychopath. Blood everywhere. No sound. He tried, but couldn't really come up with a more pathetic image.

Disgusted, Reid got up and paced, gnawing at his lower lip. He didn't bother leaving the room: he'd seen on his way up. There was nothing else in the house. No furniture, no nothing. Just… empty.

Sighing, Reid stopped. This wasn't helping. Ok. What to do?

"Make sure Kat's all right," he said aloud, this time taking comfort in the sound. Following his own command, Reid went to the fallen girl. He checked her pulse again, found the same thready beat. There was a strand of sweaty dark hair mixed with a single clump of white across her forehead. Before he could stop himself, Reid had reached out and brushed it away. He stared at his hand: it was shaking. Suddenly, he took Kat's wrist again and found her pulse, almost desperately counting the beats. Somehow, seeing his fingers contrast against her skin so baldly as he moved her hair… it brought it all home again, and harder. It was really true. She was badly hurt. She was _dying_, and he was what? Just pacing around doing nothing? Waiting for the end? Waiting for Kat to take her last, faint breath here in this cold, ugly little room while some psycho bitch gathered the last drop of her blood and used it to perform whatever sick ritual she had planned?

Jaw clenched, Reid straightened away from the prone body before him. His hand, still resting lightly on Kat's forehead, buzzed with electricity as a shot of defiance coursed through him. He jumped back, cursing, as Kat's body jerked with the force of his stray energy shock. He watched in horror as an interconnected foam of red bubbles pushed through her lips to pop silently, sending tiny flecks of crimson across her cheeks and chin. Slowly, hazily, her eyes opened. They widened with a dumb kind of terror, an animal emotion made up of white-eyed panic and dilating pain. Reid fell to his knees and took her hand, not caring now about the awkwardness, staring helplessly at her weakly working jaw as she tried to speak. His gut ached and he wanted to retch as Kat found his gaze, the animal fear and pain in her eyes taming to a silent pleading: _don't let this be real. Please, please, don't let this be real. _

"Don't- don't try to sit up," he said, voice breaking as she coughed weakly and then let out a hiss of agony. She stopped moving, and he felt her hand spasm slightly in his. "It's gonna be ok," Reid told her, lacing their fingers together so she could feel his hand there. "I won't let you die."

"-hurts-" Her words brought another bubble of blood to her lips. He opened his mouth, but could find no words, so he just knelt there, holding her hand and her gaze as slow tears ran from the outer corners of her eyes and trailed down her temples into the silky tangle of her hair. "I- can't-"

"Shh. Don't try to talk, either."

"- feel-" The terror was present in her voice, a raw, trembling fear that brought to mind a dog caught in a bear trap, whimpering for rescue. It made Reid feel sick, the same kind of sick that seeing her lips tinted with that softer, rose-colored shade had made him. She shouldn't be this scared, this wounded. She shouldn't be…

"Kat," he whispered helplessly, watching the tears of pain and confusion and fear slide down her bloodless skin. She closed her eyes, either from exhaustion or... The weak grip her hand had on his relaxed, and the muscles of her face went lax. "Kat?"

He bent his head, listening for her breath, one hand going for her pulse.

"Come on. Come on, babe, breathe for me." Nothing. No weak rasp from her lungs, no thready, wavering pulse. His fingers searched her wrist, his grip tightening. "Come on!"

It took at least a minute for Reid to drop her hand and rise to his feet, stumbling backwards. He swallowed, face twisted with disbelief and the beginnings of a dangerous anguish.

She lay there, one hand across her waist, the other arm sprawled out to the side where he'd dropped it, head tilted towards him.

"My fault," Reid whispered, bringing his hand before his face and staring at the blood there. His eyes fell to Kat's still features. "My fault."

Dead.


	18. Recalled

AN: Can anyone say 'Deus Ex Machina'?

Oh, and a note to **Mackie**- Yeah, I did steal Aiden's last name. I wasn't actually trying to make a connection, but I just really like the name 'Teague'. Blood and Chocolate is an amazing book, too! 

Pain is relative. It varies, depending on type, degree, situation, time… A person can handle extraordinary amounts of pain simply by adjusting the degree of adrenaline to fit the situation.

That being said, I'd just like to submit the opinion that being shot, as in actually _shot in the chest_, is the singularly most painful experience I have ever had. When that pain hit me… there are no words. I remember the sensation of falling, of crumbling to the ground as if my entire body had been transformed into thousands of bits of confetti scattering all at once. I remember being trapped inside myself, wrapped in my agony, a blind animal caught in the undertow. I remember opening my eyes and seeing, or not seeing, or imagining I saw, Reid's face. I remember dying.

There, then. That's the crux, the vertex, the eye of the storm. Death. My scrape of a slide into alive-no-more.

Or did I die? Am I, this bodiless emoticon, dead? Am I a ghost? Curiously unafraid now, I opened my eyes and looked around. There, there, I lay alone. Singular. I saw my body as a mass of flesh and bone, not endowed with spirit or life or dimension. I saw my blood as a scientist views data on a slide, or as a pathologist studies the next wound in the latest corpse. It wasn't something I was connected to.

I sat up, touching my chest. No gaping hole. No bloodsoaked shirt. Behind me, I left my body. I should have been sickened. Terrified. Instead, I rose to stand over myself, looking to the room.

Reid was sitting against the far wall, his head lowered. I thought for a moment that he was asleep, but then I saw the way he rocked back and forth ever-so-slightly, his hair falling in front of his face. I went to him, falling to my knees and reaching out. My fingers brushed through his hair, ghosting across his skin like silk on marble. He didn't look up, and I understood that he could not feel me. I, however, felt him with perfect clarity. The softness of his bangs, the smooth warmth of his forehead, the perfect top rim of his ear.

"Hey," I said aloud, ignoring my common sense. As I'd thought, he couldn't hear me, either. I tried to tip his chin up to see his face, but nothing happened. My fingers didn't slip through his body like I'd expected. Instead, they seemed to almost slide _off_ his face, as if my hand and his chin were two magnets rejecting each other. So I could touch, but I couldn't affect. As each new fact about my new situation occurred to me, part of my brain muttered that I probably should be getting pretty freaked out about all this. I didn't. It just didn't seem to matter the same way I thought it should have. Like I was considering things on a different plane than I had before.

Because I couldn't move him, I bent my own head to look at Reid. His eyes were shut, his mouth a still line. His nostrils flared with some emotion, and his lids squeezed tighter.

"Kat," he murmured. "Ah, Kat." I felt energy course through me as he said my name, and my incorporeal head bent forward of its own volition. My phantom lips pressed briefly against Reid's, a kiss born of a strange kind of joy that beat back my mental turmoil. I wanted to kiss him, and I didn't want to kiss him, and I wanted him to know it. I now knew what it was to be, the sweetest thing, _remembered_. It gave me power, hearing my name on the lips of the living. Reid started, his mouth opening with surprise. I fell back, shocked. Had he felt me? Hope filled me.

"Reid. Reid! I'm here."

"Oh God," he sighed. "Fuck it. I gotta… I gotta figure this out."

"I'm here," I said again, feeling the first twinges of a different pain.

"I'll kill her," Reid muttered gutturally, rising to his feet. "I'll kill her, and Caleb 'n the others, they'll get me the hell out of here. But that bitch is not leaving here alive." When he took a step forward, I yelped and stumbled to catch my balance as I was repelled away from him like I'd been when I tried to tilt his chin.

"No! Reid, no!" Helpless, confined, I watched as he strode to where Mary lay against the wall, motionless.

"Do you think she's dead?"

Mary's voice made me jump, and Reid snarled. He leaned down, grabbed her by the collar, and lifted her in one quick move.

"You killed her!"

"Did I?" Hand shaking, he flung an arm out to point to my body. Accusation beat through his veins. I could taste it on the air I didn't breathe.

"I'll tell you a secret," Mary said quietly.

"I don't want to know your fucking se-"

"She's not dead."

"-cret!" Then, Reid fell silent as her words sank in. I walked up behind him, staring at the witch.

"Well, she died, that's true. But I hardly expected _that_ to happen. And frankly, I'm surprised she's still dead."

"What?"

"Yeah," I agreed, the sedateness of my mental state giving way to confusion. Sure, emotions didn't seem to mean the same things they had before, but this woman was saying I might not stay in this phantom-life for long. "What?"

"Well, why didn't you heal her? You have the power. It doesn't matter to me either way; I'll still win. But you could make the last few hours a lot more bearable." She had the audacity to shrug.

"Heal her? If I could heal her, would she be lying there- all-" He broke off.

"Her spirit's still here, boy," Mary said, sounding annoyed at his slowness, but not at all put out by the fact that he had apparently knocked her out more than once. "Call it back. Bring her back to life."

"_I can't_! And why are you helping me?!"

"I'm not. I'm helping me. Despite the fact that, should I die, both of you will be incinerated and I will be replaced by another member of my coven, I'd rather not. You're less likely to kill me if you aren't running on vengeance. So bring her back, moron."

"You shot the girl I- You shot Kat. You imprisoned us both. You're gonna kill us in the morning. Now you think insulting me is a good idea?" Mary didn't blink. I could see the struggle on Reid's face: he wanted, so badly, to hurt her… but he wanted to save me, too. Finally, he bit his lip.

"How?"

I felt a rush. He would do it. He would bring me back. I remembered kissing him at Nicky's, and the confusion and hurt it had brought me. Then, I remembered kissing him for the second time when only I knew I was doing it, and the feelings of anger and uncertainty faded away. It had taken dying to pound it through my skull, but I had to admit it to myself: I liked him. Really liked him.

"Call back her spirit. Put it back inside her corpse. There's still time."

"If you're lying to me," Reid started carefully, "I-"

"Spare me," Mary said dryly. I frowned. She wasn't afraid of him in the least. Why was that? Why wasn't she afraid?

Reid dropped her, stalking over to where my body lay. I went to stand across from him, gnawing on my lower lip. Come on, Magic Boy. Please. Please let this work.

"Kat," he whispered. I felt the power in me rise to meet the power in him. "Kat, are you there?"

"I'm here," I answered, pushing at the veil between us. "I'm here!"

"Live. Come on. Live."

"I'm trying," I breathed, pressing my hand against my still heart. "Help me!"

"Give her something," Mary called. "Give her something to come back for."

I felt a whirl of feeling, the emotion that had seemed so numb and deadened when I first rose from my fleshy grave. My spirit seemed to spin in place, sending tingles through my ghostly stomach.

"Please," Reid tried. "Live. Live for me. I need you to live, Kat." My hand, down against the bloodied chest of my lifeless body, warmed.

"It's too hard," I gasped, closing my eyes. I felt as if all my particles were about to fly apart and dissipate into oxygen.

"Kat," he said again. "Kat, Kat, can you hear me?" With each time he said my name, I felt stronger. More real.

"Help me," I whispered into his ear, and he jerked his head around.

"Kat?"

"Help me."

"I can feel you," he breathed, dropping to his knees and placing both his hands on my corporeal belly. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight, despite the force of death trying to push me away from his vibrancy.

"Bring me back," I begged, feeling heat spiral down my spine.

"You're everywhere," he cried, throwing his head back and letting out a hoarse, wild laugh. "I feel you, Kat! I hear you! Live, Kat! I need you," he choked, and I gasped. My arms were torn from around his neck, my body thrown backwards and down. I screamed as my being flew into a thousand pieces and slammed back together in a wild, uncontrollable explosion of gravity.

Slowly, painfully, a heavy weight settled on me. I moaned, my entire body aching. My eyelids were like iron seals over my vision. I struggled to raise them, lift them up and away.

Breathless, I sat up with a wincing catch in my ribs. Reid knelt there, speechless, staring. I looked down at my chest, saw blood and fabric and skin. Reaching up in an almost surreally slow motion, I touched the place where the bullet had hit me.

Nothing but scar tissue.

"I'm alive," I said, and saw him hear me.

"Oh my god," Reid let out, the words spilling from his lips like water.

I took him in my arms and held him like a child, his head against my breast as he breathed me in. His grip on me was like steel, belying the way I cradled him.

"Well," a weary voice said from the far wall. "Isn't that sweet?"

And it all came crashing down.


	19. Ultimatum

Chapter 19

6:21 PM

Reid pulled away from her in one swift movement, his shields slamming into place. Kat let him go, breathing in strong and looking across the room. Mary Harcortte, her red hair falling slightly across her face, sat calmly and composedly against the wall.

"Now, boy, would you like to fill her in on what your choice is?" The blond's fists clenched, and he glanced at Kat. The dark-haired girl curled her lip as she stared steadily ahead, her eyes harder than moments before.

"Either she kills us both tomorrow, or we all die at noon. The house is a set-up," he added flatly, not meeting Kat's eyes. Her eyes flicked towards him, noting the muscle in his jaw that jumped compulsively and the studied blankness of his expression. He was hiding something. Confusion rippled through her: he had just saved her life, literally, and had grabbed her like she was his last chance of survival, and _now_ he was hiding something?

"Succinctly put," Mary agreed with a hint of a smile. "Now, this would have been a lot easier, true, if you," she nodded at Reid, "had shown up a little later. However, the way things have turned out is not bad at all. So, would you two like some time to discuss this?"

"Discuss it? Last time we chatted, you shot me," Kat said angrily. She couldn't stop herself from pushing herself to a stand. Reid was up in a flash, balancing on the balls of his feet like a runner about to take off.

"Kat," he said quietly. She shot him a startled look.

"You were ready to kill her when I was dead!" She pushed back the part of her that wanted to comment on the ridiculousness of that statement.

"But you aren't dead anymore," he replied, still with that oddly quiet tone. Kat inhaled, and there was fear on the air. Fear and something else, something almost like… exhilaration.

"He's right," Mary put in. "Besides, I have nothing to worry about here. Feel free to talk. I'll be waiting outside." She rose to her feet, the arm that Kat had clawed held close to her stomach. Neither teen stopped her as she left the room. As soon as the door closed, Kat strode over to the camera attached high in one corner. Jumping, she swung her arm and batted it down as if it were made of plastic.

"It's already broken," Reid told her. "I kind of killed the electronics when I got here." She looked down at the black metal box, eying the lens. Tossing it to the ground, she kicked it hard enough to make it fly into the wall.

"I hate cameras. That one was watching me long enough." He shrugged.

"Well, it won't be watching anyone now."

"No." They fell into a strange, brief silence, and then both started talking at once.

"Why didn't-"

"You need to-" Breaking off, Reid gestured to her. Kat continued, folding her arms. She didn't know how to act. One minute he was hugging her, the next, treating her like… like he had before.

"Why didn't you look at me? When you were explaining her little ultimatum?" There was a flash of something hard and alien in those icy blue eyes, but then Reid gave her his trademarked sly, mostly-wicked grin. Or, he tried to. There was something fragile in his sharp, shrewd features that made her stomach twist.

"Got an idea," he answered.

"What idea?" Reid rolled his shoulders.

"You probably don't want to hear it," he said lightly. "So, how was death?"

"How was- Reid, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Not nearly as much as with you," he tossed back, "considering that, of the two of us, I'm the only one who hasn't been clinically dead in the recent past." Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Kat blinked. His voice was airy, quick, uncaring. Far different from the wrenching cries that had forced her spirit back into her body.

"How can you- Okay. Ignoring that. How are we getting out of this?" Again, she saw that flash of foreign emotion in Reid's eyes. Quickly, she tried to analyze it: cold fear, excitement, uncertainty? Then, he seemed to make a decision, and stepped towards her.

"Do you love me?" Her jaw dropped open, her nose wrinkling with shock.

"_What_?!" He shook his head.

"Fuck love. Do you want me?"

"Reid, what the _hell_ are-" Taking another step forwards, Reid grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. Before she could finish, he slid his hand up the back of her neck and yanked her mouth to his.

There was a split second of utter surprise, and then everything that had been building between them exploded into a fiery clutch of skin and feeling.

"What are you- mmph," she broke off as he abandoned her neck and covered her lips with his. His hands rushed beneath her- his- shirt, tracing over her back with strong, warm fingers. She returned the favor, abandoning the confusion that was seeming more and more superfluous, and ripped his shirt open from the back.

Kat felt his thin, compactly muscled back, her thumbs pressing against the ridges of his spine. His skin was warm, but she could feel him shaking minutely. Her hands slid down to the waistband of his jeans, brushing across a patch of skin that felt oddly smooth compared to the skin around it.

"I- didn't know- you had a tattoo," she gasped as he trailed kisses down her collarbone.

"Got it- last year," he replied, lifting her shirt over her head. "You ruined- my shirt."

"Mine now." She unbuttoned his jeans, lightly biting his shoulder.

"God, you're annoying." Reid spanned his fingers across her belly, feeling the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"You brought me back- ah!- to life, so- it's your- fault!"

"Well-"

"Less talk. More-"

"God, yes."

When it was over, Reid pulled his jeans back on and buttoned them absently, staring at the girl curled up beside him. Neither of them were contented, but Kat was looking more and more like a sated dog. She didn't bother putting clothes on.

"Don't you want to get dressed? She's coming back eventually." The loup-garou sighed, and her gaze was more wolf than human.

"Easier to Change when I'm already naked," she answered slowly. Then, she blinked at him. "Not that I'm, you know, complaining, but why did you just jump me?"

"You jumped me right back." Kat heaved another sigh, but this one was far more disgusted.

"All right already, Reid. It's been established. No matter how much we dance around it, there's really no denying it anymore. I want you, you want me. It's a fact. Still doesn't tell me why." The blond closed his eyes.

"In seven hours and thirty-two minutes, I'm going to turn eighteen. When that happens, we both die. And if I'm dead too, I can hardly drag you back into the land of the living."

"But-"

"But that's not going to happen."

"How so? Share with me, Great One," she said sarcastically.

"You aren't going to be there."

"What?"

"If you die before I ascend, it won't matter to her plan. If _I _die, though…"

"What are you talking about?!" Kat was crouched on all fours now, one knee up against her breast, the other leg bunched up and ready to spring.

"You've seen Pirates of the Caribbean, right?"

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Reid bent down, took her face in his hands, and kissed her hard.

"I'm gonna pull a Will Turner. Our redheaded friend gets to play the evil captain." And then, the pieces came together.

The flash in his eye: fear, excitement, uncertainty.

The sudden admission of attraction.

Pirates of the Caribbean.

"You want to use yourself as a bargaining chip," Kat breathed, reaching up and taking one of the hands that was still resting on her cheek. "Either she lets me go, or you kill yourself before she has the chance to steal your power." He smiled at her, and again, she saw that awful fragileness in his smile.

"Smart girl. I always hated that about you." She ripped herself away, standing fast.

"No! You can't do that!"

"It's the only way," he argued. "If you get out, you have to find Caleb and the others. Figure out something. Save my skin as payback for my saving yours."

"Reid, you stupid bastard, you-"

"What has the silly boy done now? Aside from the obvious," Mary added disdainfully, eying Kat's nudity. She stood in the doorway, her arm bandaged, one hand against the frame. Kat opened her mouth, but Reid shoved her back. He stepped forward, and reached into his jeans' pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a thin, deadly bit of metal that Kat hadn't even felt when she took his pants off: a switchblade. She stared at it, but then shook her head. Of course Reid would have a knife. It wasn't enough that he had the Power.

There was a soft popping sound, and the blade slid effortlessly into the air: five inches of sharp steel. Instantly, it was pressed against Reid's throat.

Mary took a halting step forward before she fell back smoothly.

"What is your game, Mr. Garwin?"

"Oh, so it's 'Mr. Garwin' now, is it? Fine. Well, you being the genius here," he said condescendingly, "you should be able to figure it out." Kat could hear his breathing, hard and fast. She felt his heart pounding as if it were her own. "Either you let her go, or I die long before you can perform your precious ritual."


	20. Pack

Chapter 20

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Mary folded her arms, holding one more gingerly than the other. Reid widened his eyes thoughtfully.

"Well, now that you mention it-"

"You honestly expect me to believe that you'd kill yourself for her? And even if you did, what good would it do? I still wouldn't let her go."

"You won't risk it," he said assuredly. "As for the other part…" With a sharp movement that had Kat stiffening, nostrils flaring, he jerked his hand a bit. Crimson beaded around the blade. Mary's lips tightened. Kat inhaled sharply, taking in the strong, primal scent of blood. Dropping to all fours, she let her muscles collect and bunch, a silkysoft readiness.

"Reid, put the knife down," she hissed. He didn't look at her, but his lips quirked.

"Come on, babe," he said smoothly. Now, he was all confidence and arrogance. "You know me. Would I really lower myself to obeying the likes of you?"

"Don't be stupid," Kat replied, also keeping her eyes on Mary. "You aren't helping."

"C'mere," he said. Slowly, Kat rose and padded over to him. Mary stood stock still, watching, her eyes locked on the knife. With his free arm, Reid grabbed Kat around the waist and pulled her close so he could whisper in her ear.

"Shut the hell up," he murmured. "I know what I'm doing."

"Getting yourself killed is not-" His grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly. She stopped talking, and he continued.

"I can take care of myself. Don't move," he added to Mary, who had begun to shift her weight. "Besides, I'm way too selfish to actually die for someone who's not me," Reid finished smartly. Kat rolled her eyes. It seemed that, when he had nothing left to lose, Reid dealt with the utter terror and adrenaline he must have been feeling by regressing to his most obnoxious.

"This doesn't work," she whispered into his ear, pitching her voice at its most seductive, "and I will personally rip your throat out, loverboy."

"Who needs affection when I've got death threats?" With that, he let her go and tilted his head, baring his neck further. Kat lowered her own head in the pattern of an angry wolf, backing up as her back arched. She stood a few paces behind Reid, her shoulders hunched, her hair falling in long tangles down her back and across her face. Baring her teeth, she gave Mary a grin that had way too many teeth. The witch, eyes flicking from the knife in Reid's hand to the naked girl behind him, swallowed briefly but did not lose composure. Fluidly, Kat fell to all fours. When she landed, the only thing human about her was the murderous look in her amber eyes.

"So what's it gonna be? If I die, you won't ever complete your sick little ritual. If she lives, well, I guess you get to keep on trying."

"You'd really sacrifice yourself for her?" Mary sounded disbelieving. Reid gave a theatrical sigh.

"Would you please stop making this sound so goddamn romantic? Do I look like fucking Romeo to you?" He pressed a little harder. "Ooh, that hurts a bit. Little more blood, huh?"

"I continue to underestimate you," she bit out. "Fine. The girl can go. But be assured, my coven will hear of this. You are only buying her time, not life. As for you… You just forced me into a decision I did not want to make. This could have been easy. Now, I'll have to make you will me your power."

"Like I'd do that."

"With no options left," Mary said grimly, "I must do what I must. I didn't want to have to harm you any more than necessary. I would have made it fast. Painless."

"If you could torture me," Reid said baldly, "you'd have done it before. If you could beat me in a power fight, you would have taken the knife as soon as I pulled it."

"You're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve," she replied blandly. "You win this battle, Reid Garwin. For now, your wolf is safe. Kitty, you may leave. I lift the barrier for you." Kat hesitated, then stalked proudly past Reid. When she reached Mary, she let out a soft, promising snarl that was barely a whisper, but vibrated through both humans like the rumble of a distant train. Without a backwards glance, the white-streaked wolf prowled from the room, padding silently into the shadows. Mary closed her eyes, her forehead knitting with concentration, and Reid could feel a shift in the barrier that held him inside the house. There was a heavy waiting silence, and then Kat's presence was gone from the building and Mary let out a breath and opened her eyes.

"There," she said. "She's out. Put down the knife."

"Why should I? Why shouldn't I just end it?"

"Because that, boy, is a bluff I know I can call." Slowly, silently, Reid lowered the knife.

88888888888

Kat found the front door in wolf form, and then shifted back to human to open it. Breathing steadily to keep her nerves from taking over, she reached out and turned the knob. The door swung open, and she stepped out.

Nothing stopped her.

No barrier.

The witch had kept her word.

And now, Reid was alone with her.

Kat felt an alien tugging in her gut, an unfamiliar, instinctive push to go back. She raised a hand to her face, shocked to find a single tear there. Slowly, comprehension filled her: pack. She'd fallen for Reid, slept with him, formed a bond. He had become her pack. A wolf is born to run with a pack, to sleep with a pack, to hunt with a pack. Loyal to the death. Loyal to the _point_ of death, actually… and Kat had just abandoned the only pack she'd ever had.

"Kat?!" The sound of another voice startled her, made her jump. It was Caleb, sounding utterly astounded. Immediately, Kat ripped her hand away from her face, taking the tear with her. She strode down the steps of the front porch, moving towards the gate. Caleb, Tyler and Pogue stood there, each in varying degrees of exhaustion. Sweat was pouring down Caleb's face. She understood that they'd been trying to break through Mary's walls.

"Hey, boys," she said, and vaulted over the gate. They stared at her, either because she had just jumped over what had been holding them back for hours, or because she was naked. Kat looked down at herself and sighed. This seemed to happen a lot around them.

"Do- How- Where's Reid?" A coat was handed to her, and she put it on absently, not really caring about her nudity. There were far more important things going on.

"Back there. With her." She buttoned the coat enough that it closed over her breasts, and then ran her hands through her hair. Caleb's eyes fell on her chest; rather, on the violent scar that had recently been a gaping wound.

"What the hell happened in there? Why didn't Reid come with you? What's going on?"

"I got shot. I died. I got better. She wants to steal Reid's power when he ascends, and there's some ritual she wanted to do. Reid tricked her into letting me go. That's all you really need to know. If you ever want to see him again, we have to find a way into that house before the hour he turns eighteen." Sarah and Kate were out of the car now, hurrying to where the others stood. They moved towards Kat, but something in her face made them keep a little distance. Smart girls.

"That gives us a couple hours," Pogue said, glancing at the house. "We're fucked." Kat lifted her eyes to his, and he took a step back: hers weren't their customary brown, but a deep shade of yellow-gold. There was no trace of the Kat that had snarked and joked with them before her abduction: now, she was far more animal than human, and neither Pogue nor the others were sure of how to deal with that.

"We are getting him back," Kat contradicted the long-haired teen. She eyed each of the others with her lupine gaze. "I fight for what's mine." Caleb studied her for an instant, and then lifted his chin.

"Reid's the rulebreaker," he said softly. "Always getting into trouble." Kat smiled, pointy teeth showing through. Caleb met her gaze, and continued. "He's gotten himself into some pretty deep shit here… so I guess it's time we picked up the slack."

"What are you saying, man?" Tyler was looking at the house that trapped his best friend, but his attention was on Caleb.

"Kat's right. We're getting him back, no matter what it takes. We only have a few hours? Well, then. Let's get the hell moving."


	21. Parents

Chapter 21

"What time was Reid born?" The three Sons looked at each other.

"Um…"

"That was helpful, Tyler, thank you," Caleb said distractedly. "Well, I know he was born in the morning. Early." They were sitting in Tyler's truck, idling in front of the house where Mary was keeping the fourth member of the Covenant. Kat glanced at the digital clock in the dashboard.

"It's 8:30 now. That gives us a few hours before midnight. Define 'early'."

"Shit. I don't know. We'll have to find his birth certificate."

"Couldn't we just ask his mother?" Caleb sucked in a breath, and Tyler looked away from Kat.

"We could try," he offered. Kat gave him a 'well, duh' look, and nodded towards the steering wheel.

"So let's go."

"Do you want to call your dad? He was pretty freaked out when you went missing." Pogue handed her his phone from the front passenger side seat, and Kat dialed quickly as Tyler pulled away from the curb.

"Hello?" At the timber of his voice, Kat felt an unexpected rush of purely childish relief: Daddy was here, and he would… Well, no, he really wouldn't make everything okay. Still, she was smiling despite herself as she answered.

"Dad, it's me. Kat." There was an instant where she could have sworn she heard his heart stop over the phone, and then he was speaking so loudly that she had to pull the phone away from her ear.

"Kat? Are you all right? Where are you? What happened? Where the hell have you been?"

"Dad, I'm okay." Sort of. "I can't explain what's going on right now, but I'm all right. I'm with friends, and I'm safe."

"What do you mean you can't explain? Do you have any idea how scared I was?" She let out a little laugh, purely unintentionally.

"I have a pretty good idea, Dad." He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

"Are you sure you're alright? Not hurt in any way? Where have you been? Did someone… did they…"

"I'm… I'm not hurt." The new scar could be explained later. "Don't worry. I have to do something, and I can't tell you what's going on, but I promise I'll be careful. I'll be home tomorrow." _And if I'm not, then I'm afraid I won't be coming home at all_. But she couldn't say that.

"Please, Kitty," her father said quietly, a strange desperation in his tone. "Tell me what's happening. You've never lied to me before." She swallowed, heart pounding.

"Daddy," Kat whispered into Pogue's cell phone, "I've lied to you all my life. I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I love you."

"Kat! Kat, don't you dare hang up on me!"

"Bye, Daddy." And she closed the phone, handing it back to its owner with a steady hand. "How far to Reid's house?"

"A few more minutes," Caleb said into the silence, reading her expression. No more mention would be made of her father. "We'll just have to hope she's there." Kat noticed the bitter twist he gave to the word 'she', and oddly enough, felt happy because of it: Caleb felt Reid's pain, no matter how much he tried to hide it. They all did. They, too, were Reid's pack… and that was something she could understand. It bound her to them even tighter, and that was a good thing now.

"She will be," Kat said firmly.

"Then we'll have to hope she's not drunk or doped. And that she'll help us in the first place." This time, it was Tyler who replied.

"Oh, she will," he said. "She'll help."

In that moment, Kat thought, Tyler actually sounded dangerous.

They pulled into the loop of driveway that curved in front of the large house that Kat had been inside once before, gravel crunching as the tires spun to a halt. Caleb, Tyler, Pogue, Sarah and Kate spilled out of the car and followed Kat as she strode up to the front door, dressed in the jacket and a pair of old gym shorts that Tyler'd found wedged behind his seat cushion. (She'd thought it better not to ask.)

Kat didn't bother ringing the doorbell; from what she knew of Reid's mother, no one would answer. Stepping through the door, she looked around. The hallway was dim and deserted, and she could almost feel the house breath its stillness.

"Hello? Mrs. Garwin?"

"Mrs. Garwin," Sarah called from behind her.

"Hello?"

"What are you doing in my house?!" The voice came out of nowhere, startling everyone into yelps and jerks. Kat's attention swung to a doorway off to the right, through which she could vaguely make out a stairwell. A woman stood in the doorway, a sheer black bathrobe wrapped around her thin frame. Her long, white-blond hair sheeted down her back in perfect waves, but her face was hollowed and angular, the skin pale to the point of looking almost yellow. Her eyes were sunken in their sockets, the blue color glazed slightly by years and abuse. She stared at the teenagers with a look of angry, twisted suspicion mixed with a sort of trapped fear. Looking at her, Kat felt a visceral jolt of pity for any son growing up with this creature for a mother.

"We're Reid's friends," Pogue said calmly. "Remember me, Mrs. Garwin? It's Caleb and Tyler and Pogue. This is Kate, Sarah and Kat." The woman- Reid's mother- tilted her head to the side and back in a gesture so painfully familiar that it actually took Kat a second to recognize it: it was _Reid's_ head-tilt. Somehow, seeing that blatant connection between the vibrant, attitude-filled teen she knew and this washed-out, wasted wreck of a woman struck Kat as the saddest thing of all.

"Reid's friends? No. Reid doesn't have friends," she said, sounding fretful. Caleb stepped forward and reached out his hand, but she flinched back.

"Yes, he does," he said instead, oh-so-gently. "And we're just trying to help him. We need to know what time he was born, Mrs. Garwin. Can you tell us that?"

"Tell you that? Why should I tell you that?" The harried, childlike tone was gone, replaced by anger and, again, that awful nervousness. "I've never seen you people before. What are you doing here? Did Reid tell you to come over and bother me? Is he punishing me? I'll set him straight," she continued, folding her arms and shaking her head. Her long, beautiful hair swung across her ruined face. "That boy. So ungrateful. Stupid, ungrateful son of mine; just like his father. I should have never-" That was when Kat took two steps forward, reached out, and slapped her across the face.

Reid's mother fell silent at once, her mouth open in shock. Kat took advantage of the silence.

"You have no idea who your son is," she hissed.

"Kat-"

"Shut up, Caleb." Returning her attention to the woman in front of her, Kat curled her lip. "He saved my life tonight. Your stupid, ungrateful son gave himself up to save me. So don't you say another fucking word about him." Reid's mother frowned spitefully, and drew herself up.

"Sure. He acts. They all act. His father acted, too. He acted like a pro, girl, like a _pro_." Her words dripped venom. "Don't let it fool you."

"He likes to sing." Both Kat and Mrs. Garwin broke their staring contest to swing the full brunt of their glares at Tyler, who for once did not back down. "Reid, I mean. Heavy metal, rock, mostly, but some jazz too. He tells knock-knock jokes when he's trying to cheer you up. He can whittle. His favorite food is sushi, but he hates cooked fish. Did you know any of that, Mrs. Garwin?" Before she had a chance to answer, Tyler continued. Kat and the others were watching him with unconcealed awe as he spoke in a low, steady, confidant voice that seemed to rest on the air like a cloud. "I know it because he's my best friend. He's been there for me since we were kids. He's beaten me up a few times, and he's beaten people up for me a few times, and he's let me hit him around a few times, too. Did you know that, either?"

"I want you out of my house," the woman replied in a soft, shaky voice. "Now." But Tyler wasn't going anywhere.

"He hates school, but he loves to read. Lots of Stephen King and Dean Koontz, but he likes Tolkien and he's at least read one of Pullman's books."

"Stop." Relentlessly, Tyler spoke on.

"His favorite movie is The Fast and the Furious, and he likes the Pirates of the Caribbean ones, too. Anything with action and humor. He can be the most annoying guy you'll ever meet, and he can be a real bastard, too, but he's also a great friend and a good guy to have at your back. Loyal. Smart."

"That boy is a lazy, good-for-nothing, neglectful-"

"Neglect? Neglect?!" Now it was Caleb who spoke, and the calm, gentle tone from before was wiped away. Cold fury lit his gaze. "Do you know what it's like to be twelve years old and to get a phone call at three AM and find out that the guy you consider a brother is home alone, again, and has been for two weeks, and he's really hungry but there's no food whatsoever because the last time someone went shopping was half a month ago? What about getting a call asking for a ride to the doctor because he's been throwing up for three days now but no one's been home? What about giving him a ride home and coming in for something to drink and having to stay downstairs the whole time because _someone's_ reeling around the top floor with a nameless drunk in tow, screaming about how worthless her son is while she fucks a man that'll later come down and knock her kid around a little because he's hungover and bored? Ever experienced any of that, _Mrs. Garwin_?" This time, Reid's mother could not seem to find anything to say. Her yellowed, sunken face was shadowed by her hair, and Kat could not make out her expression.

"We don't have time for this," Kat said finally. "At this point, I really don't give a damn what you think of Reid. You're not worth it, not to me, and not to him. We need to know what time he was born, and we need to know now. I'd suggest you tell us."

"What do you care, anyway," she asked sullenly, her voice returning to that of a sulky, spoiled child. Kat, being the closest, reached out and took Reid's mother by the chin. She tilted the woman's head up, and looked into her faded blue eyes.

"Because I love him," she said simply. "And so do they. And if you don't help us now, so help me God I will do something I might not regret." She let go of the woman's chin and stepped back, feeling the warmth of Sarah's hand on her arm.

"His birth certificate's in the office. Down the hall to your left. It's filed. Get it and get out."

"We're trying to save your son," Kate said gently, trying to break the ice that seemed to surround the blond woman.

"You've all proved that I don't know him at all," she said, and in her voice was a mixture of wistfulness, regret, anger and, dominating over the rest, that same sullen stubbornness. It was a mix that Kat found vaguely repulsive, and somewhat pathetic. "So why don't you take him? I never wanted him to begin with. He's no son of mine, not really."

"Do you feel anything for him? Don't you love him, at least a little?" Sarah sounded pleading. Kat understood the desire to force this cold woman to care, at least a bit, but she also understood the futility of that desire. Mrs. Garwin was way too far gone by now.

"Get the certificate," Mrs. Garwin said, turning to leave, "and get the hell out of my house."

She did not answer Sarah's question, and before the girl could call out again, she had vanished into the shadows of her own self-constructed prison. The remaining Sons and the girls looked at each other, expressions mirroring: a sort of grim forlornness; a resigned pity. Then, Pogue clapped his hands. The sound was deafening, it seemed.

"Let's go find that birth certificate."


	22. Pyscho

Chapter 22

"So," Mary said with a saccharine smile. "Tell me."

"Tell you what," Reid asked sullenly from his seat across the room. The witch sat composedly against the door, not having made another move towards him. Reid wasn't sure what to think. Kat was safe-ish, but his great plan seemed to have deflated since her release. Mary had done nothing but sit and watch him in silence since he put the knife back in his pocket, and it had been at least half an hour.

"Tell me about her. The girl. Why would you die for her?" She sounded… well, to say 'genuinely interested' would be a stretch, but she at least sounded a little curious. Reid looked at the older woman, suspicious, and Mary made no effort to hide the nasty threat in her eyes. Still, the question lingered, and Reid could detect no ulterior motive for asking.

"Not planning on dying," he finally answered ambiguously. She stretched carelessly.

"That will be decided later, boy. Until then, I'm curious."

"I'm so sorry for you," he said sarcastically. "Curiosity killed the cat, right?"

"I won't finish that moronic quote for you."

"Thank you."

"Why don't you want to talk about her? Surely you love her; don't you want to rhapsodize?" Reid rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Like I'd rhapsodize to you, of all people."

"I just let her live. I want to know why she deserved it." A gleam came into the blond's sharp blue eyes, and he tilted his head.

"I'll make you a deal. Tell me why she deserved to die, and then I'll explain why she didn't." Mary shrugged.

"She was convenient," she said, blasé to the end. Instead of bristling, Reid laughed. There was a certain brash edginess to the laughter that grated at Mary, but she ignored it.

"That's your reason? That's why a 17-year-old girl deserved to die?"

"It wasn't a matter of deserving."

"And neither is her life. She didn't deserve to die, and I guess by your reasoning, she didn't deserve to live, either. But either way, it's none of your business. You don't get to decide who's deserving and who isn't." Mary shrugged again, a simple roll of her shoulders.

"Granted."

"You were really gonna kill her, weren't you? When I first got here."

"Of course." Reid focused his quicksilver gaze on the witch, resting his elbows on his bent knees and letting his hands dangle between them.

"Ever killed anyone before?" Across the room, Mary's darkling eyes narrowed. Her hair, burnished coppery red, looked almost like tendrils of living, moving blood as it fell across her cheeks. Sinuous. Deadly. Reid thought of Medusa, beauty and monstrosity all at once. He felt, in that moment, very still.

"Have you?" There was something terribly intimate about that question, and it made Reid extremely uncomfortable. It wasn't intimate in the way he was most familiar with, but in a way that was alien to him, soft and poisonous and awful.

"No." She smiled.

"You've come close, though, right? I've read your file, Reid Garwin. I know all your little personality… quirks."

"That explains why you underestimated me over and over, right?"

"Still. I know your history." Faking nonchalance, he lifted one shoulder.

"So? Still haven't answered my question."

"I've killed before," she said quietly. "When I had to. I know how it feels. Just like you."

"I've never killed _anyone_," he retorted, the calm quickly fading.

"But you've put them in the hospital. You put that one boy in a coma, Reid, and that's practically the same thing as murder."

"I did not kill Todd Alvers," he said, low and angry.

"No. You just came so close you scared yourself, didn't you? Scared yourself so bad it was months before you got in another fight. Face it. If you survived tomorrow, how long would it be before you took that extra step, pushed that extra inch? How long before you killed someone for real?"

"I'm no murderer." She pushed herself forward, leaning towards him across what felt like miles and miles and oh God, it felt like there were mere inches between them. A slow, knowing smile crawled its way across her face, her bloody hair teasing her throat.

"_Not yet_," Mary hissed, very deliberate. Reid held her gaze, sickness sliding around his gut in hot, insidious waves. "You're already addicted, Reid," she continued steadily. "Even now, you can't stop yourself from _using_." Muscles constricting with surprise and horror, Reid looked at his hands, felt them humming with energy, felt the seductive power rushing through him. His eyes burned black.

"No!" Slamming his open palms against the cold floor beside his feet, he ripped himself away from the power. Panting, he regained control. So weak. God, so fucking weak! He couldn't let her get to him. Couldn't let her win.

"See? I'm helping you, Reid," Mary told him gently, and the worst thing was, she actually seemed to believe it. The cruel hiss was out of her voice as if it had never been, and as she reached up and gingerly tucked strands of red hair behind her ear, the image of Medusa faded. "I'm helping you, and everyone you care about. Once you ascend, if you get out, how long do you really think it would take for you to lose it? To destroy everything in your path, including your friends. Including Kat."

"I wouldn't hurt them," he responded softly. "I'd kill myself first." To his utter amazement, Mary's eyes filled with tears. Compassion flooded her features, and her voice, when she spoke, was quiet and understanding.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? But it'll take over. The power. You won't be you anymore, and you won't have any control over it." Reid stared at her, unable to recognize the hard-hearted bitch who had shot Kat, threatened him and called him a killer.

"You're insane," he breathed at last. "You're fucking nuts." She bit her lip.

"I do what I have to do, to protect and provide for my coven. To honor my Goddess." He shook his head.

"Insane," Reid repeated. Mary shrugged.

"If I must be criminally mad to do my work, then psychotic I will be. I know the truth, and so does She." Reid could feel the capitol 'S' of the word. Swallowing, he turned his head away and closed his eyes, counting in his head.

1…2…3…

_Don't lose control. Just because you're trapped in a room with a sociopath does not mean you can lose control._

5…6…

_Just keep counting. Be calm. Be strong. Be smart. Be goddamn Caleb if you have to, but keep it together!_

8…9…

_Wait it out._

13…14…

_Just wait._


	23. Palavers

Chapter 23

_Once upon a time, when the world was young, animals walked the earth in peace and felt no fear. Species lived beside species, and all was calm. One of these species was called Man, and, called by Man's mind, a Consciousness arrived. This Consciousness was a Goddess, and a God, and Nothing. It was the One, the Many, the All. _

_One group called Her Sappho._

_And as the years passed, and Man evolved, the world lost its innocence and animals lost their calm. Today came about, and Yesterday was gone, but never forgotten. Sappho's daughters remembered, and went about their lives in what peace they could…_

_Until…_

_**California **_

"**How long?"**

"**A week."**

"**She's been missing a week and we hear of it only now?"**

"**She's smart, Mother, and talented. She left a glamour on a nurse she knocked out. It took them a while to realize it wasn't really her. After leaving the asylum, she went straight to the Conclaves. Once she got out of the bindings we put her under, her power was too strong for the novices on guard that night."**

"**What did she take?"**

"**A Grace. Materials for a Binding. And…"**

"**And what, Daughter?"**

"**And the Transfer scroll."**

"**What would she want with a power transferring spell?"**

"**Remember when she… when she first..."**

"**Yes. Of course. Goddess, even months after, I still shiver when I think of that poor girl…"**

"**Well, when we found her, she was muttering a few names. Incoherently, so we thought it was nonsense, remember?"**

"**Yes."**

"**I ran the names through our search database. They came up as a quartet of warlocks living in Massachusetts."**

"**What?!"**

"**They call themselves the Sons of Ipswich. Descendants of the Salem witches, those who survived the tragedy. Apparently, the power's been diluted until it only passes to males, and they arrive at their full potential upon their eighteenth birthday. Mother, they're only children, really! Seventeen, eighteen, no older."**

"**So that's what she's after. And that explains why she went after that werewolf child. So she's in Ipswich, then?"**

"**She must be. One of the boys, Reid Garwin, ascends at 2:32 this morning, Eastern Standard Time."**

"**That's in- that's in six hours! Very well, gather the Sisters. We're going to Massachusetts." **

_Ipswich_

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"I need the police. My daughter's in trouble."

"Can you be more specific, sir? Is it an immediate issue, or-"

"Just get me the cops, lady."

"May I have your name?"

"Teague. Daniel Teague."

"One moment, Mr. Teague."

"This is Detective Waters, can I help you?"

"Yes. Hello. My name is Daniel Teague. My daughter-"

"You're Kitty Teague's father, right? The girl that went missing? I'm not covering that case, but I can get you in touch with-"

"Well, that's not- That's not exactly the problem."

"What is the problem, Mr. Teague?"

"I just had a phone call from my daughter, from Kat. She said that she was with friends, but that there was something she had to do, and she couldn't tell my anything else. Then she hung up. She sounded… she sounded bad, Mr. Waters. Detective, I mean. I know my girl, and she was scared on that phone. Something's wrong, really wrong."

"You don't think it's just a teenager running away? I've dealt with this kind of thing before, Mr. Teague. I don't think-"

"She said she wasn't hurt, but there was this pause before that makes me think she was lying. She was almost crying at the end, and then she just hung up without any warning. It was like someone wouldn't let her talk any more, or something."

"All right. When did you get this call?"

"About three minutes ago."

"Do you have caller ID?"

"No. We just moved here, and I hadn't gotten around to it."

"Does Kat have a cell phone? Could she have been calling from that?"

"She doesn't have one. Neither of us do."

"How about her friends? You say she told you that she was 'with friends'. Do you know who she hangs out with, who she might go to?"

"I called the people I know that she pals around with when she first went missing. They didn't know anything."

"But they might know something now. Can I have their names, Mr. Teague?"

"Ok, um… Caleb Danvers is one of them, and Sarah… I can't remember her last name. I talked to Caleb, mostly."

"Danvers, eh? All right. Why don't you give him a call, see if he knows anything, and I'll call you back in five?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Detective."

"That's fine, Mr. Teague. Go ahead and make that call."

"Ok."

……………

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Caleb, right? Caleb Danvers?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"This is Daniel Teague. Kat's father."

"Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Uh, just a cough. Allergies. What's the news?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd know. Kat just called me."

"She called you? Really? Is she okay?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. She didn't call you, then? You don't know anything about where she is, who she's with?"

"I haven't heard anything, Mr. Teague. None of us have. I'm sorry. Tyler, turn here! No, you missed it! _Knight _Street, man! Sorry about that, Mr. Teague. What did Kat tell you?"

"Just that she was all right, and that she was with friends. But… she was hiding something, and she said she couldn't come home yet."

"Hmm. I- hang on. Give me that, Ka-Karen. Yeah, 2:32, just like it said back at the house. Well, I didn't want you to rip it up! Ok, Mr. Teague, I'm back. Sorry, again. I don't mean to trivialize this. We're all really worried."

"So am I, son, so am I. I just wanted… I wanted to make sure she wasn't with you guys."

"I wish she were, sir, I really do. Do you want us to do anything for you? Ask around some more, or something?"

"No, that's all right. I talked to the police, and so they might be giving you a call. I'd better go."

"All right. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

"…shit."


	24. Authority?

Chapter 24

Detective Charles Waters took a sip of his Coke, picking up the phone. Resting his hand on his chin, he listened to the ringing. Once, twice.

"Hello?"

"This is Detective Waters. Did you manage to reach the Danvers boy?" Daniel Teague let out a long breath.

"Yes. I spoke to him. He didn't know anything."

"What did he say?"

"He said that neither he nor any of the rest of Kat's friends had heard from her."

"Okay," Waters said slowly. "Can you give me a transcript of the conversation?"

"What?"

"Tell me, as close as you can, what he told you. Word for word."

"Why?" Waters reached for a pen and a notepad from his desk, putting down the soda. Beside the pad, an open file folder lay. Inside the folder was a blown-up school ID photo of a teenaged boy, name: Danvers, Caleb. On the inside flap was a photo of a barn; rather, the burned, gutted remains of a barn, interposed above another profile shot of the Danvers boy. A large Sharpie arrow connected the two pictures.

"Just helps me do my job," Waters replied amiably. No reason to get the father paranoid. After all, there was nothing but circumstantial evidence connected Caleb Danvers to the fire at Putnam Barn. No reason to tell an already worried parent that his daughter was connected to a dangerous arson suspect.

"All right. He was driving. I mean, he was in a car."

"How do you know?"

"Well, when he was telling me that he hadn't heard from Kat, he interrupted himself to tell someone else- Tyson? Tyler? – anyway, to tell the driver that he'd missed the street. So he told me that Kat hadn't contacted any of them, and then interrupted himself again. This time, he was talking to a girl, Karen. And he offered to help out, but I told him there was nothing he could do, and that you might be calling him."

"Right. Ok. Anything else? Anything strike you as odd about his tone?"

"Um… nothing, really. Oh, he did stumble over the girl's name, but it sounded like they were fighting over something, so he could have just-"

"Stuttered it. I understand. I'm going to go talk to Detective Anderson, the one who was covering the kidnapping case. I'll be in touch."

"Okay. Call me."

"I will. Oh, and Mr. Teague? Do you, by any chance, recall the name of the street Caleb told his friend to turn onto?"

"I think it was… Knight St."

"All right. Goodbye, then." With that, Waters hung up the phone and uncapped his pen.

_**Caleb Danvers**__**Knight St**__**Tyson/Tyler Tyler Simms? **_ _**Karen? '**_

As he wrote the second name and jotted a question mark, Waters' pen suddenly jumped, leaving a tiny black dash to the right of the mark. _Oh, he did stumble over the girl's name…  
Karen… _

"Karen," Waters said aloud. "Kat. Karen. Ka- Karen." Brow furrowing, he bent back to his pad.

_**Karen/Kat- similar**__**Karen Kat? In hiding, kidnapped?**_

"Hmm." Standing, Waters checked his watch. It was late, almost 9:45. He should be getting home. Sighing, he thought about his wife. She would already be in bed by now. She'd wake  
up when he walked in, though, and then it'd start. The yelling, the hurt looks, the guilt. "No harm in checking out Knight Street," he said aloud, capping his pen with a sharp, decisive motion. Ripping off the piece of paper, he stuck it in the file on his desk, closed the file, and tucked it under his arm.

888888888

"So we have, like, three and a half hours."

"Right."

"To figure out how to break through this shield."

"Right."

"Which we've already been trying to break for a couple hours."

"Right."

"Ok, then. Just making sure we were clear." Slamming his hand against the hood of his truck, Tyler shook his head. "Do we just keep pushing at it, or what?"

"I don't know," Pogue answered. "We don't seem to be getting anywhere." Sarah, Kate and Kat sat on the hood, eying the house on Knight Street as if they could break Mary's barrier by force of will alone. Caleb hissed out a sigh through his teeth.

"You're right," he spat. "This is getting us nowhere. There's got to be some frailty in here, somewhere! She can't have made it so goddamn perfectly that _all three of us_, plus Reid inside there, can't break through!"

"She did," Pogue said in disgust. "Fuck. I don't know how long we can keep this up, guys."

"As long as we need to," Tyler cried angrily, his narrow, handsome face contorted with determination and worry. Kat reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. She wished she could do something, _anything_.

_Useless. I'm useless to them, to Reid. _

"We're gonna save him, Ty," she murmured.

"Again!" Caleb reached out his hands, and Tyler and Pogue took them. Connected, the three Sons of Ipswich focused their power, once more, on the old house in front of them. A ripple went through the air, taking the breath away from the three girls on the hood of the truck. The fence wavered, rippling like molten steel, and the house seemed to shimmer like a mirage as the power swept across it and was deflected away.

"Damn it!" Caleb was shaking, rage tightening his shoulders and making a muscle in his jaw jump reflexively. Pogue was breathing through his teeth, long hair whipping around his hard, chiseled features in a wind born of the darkest kind of magic. Even so, it was Tyler who turned and flung out a hand towards the ancient, rusted mailbox that teetered between standing straight and falling into the road. With a shout, he watched the mailbox explode into fiery debris, scattering across the pavement. A chunk of wooden post fell into the ditch between the overgrown lawn and the street.

"Put your hands above your head!" The shout took them all by surprise, even Kat, and the teens spun around to see what Tyler belatedly recognized as a plainclothes cop standing in front of a nondescript Subaru, a gun in his hand. "Drop any other explosives you're holding and put your hands above your head!"

888888888

Waters pulled onto Knight Street slowly, not expecting much more than an underage party held in one of these musty old homes. So when he saw the truck parked in front of one of the abandoned houses, he wasn't surprised. It was the sudden, violent explosion that made him jump out of his car and pull his standard issue .38, yelling a warning.

"Drop any other explosives you're holding and put your hands above your head," he repeated loudly as the six teenagers standing and sitting around the truck turned to face him. Waters felt an unexplainable chill run up his spine, tension making the cool night air thick and tasteless.  
He approached the kids, gun still in hand. Three girls jumped down off the truck and went to stand with the boys, creating a row of teens that made him think, aptly, of a line of convicts waiting for the firing squad. This thought struck Waters as amusing, but there was nothing funny about the way these six teens were staring at him. He frowned, eyes falling on the girl on the far right. She was dressed oddly, in just a large button-up jacket and shorts, and there was a white streak in her hair…

"Kat? Kat Teague?"

"Get out of here," one of the boys said strongly. It was Caleb Danvers. His voice did not waver. Waters ignored him.

"You got any idea how much trouble you're in, young lady?"

"You need to go," the girl replied, not seeming to notice his words. "Now." There was something in her voice, something hard and threatening that did not match the Kat Teague her father had described. Nor did it match the idea of a frightened, hurt young girl.

"Please," another girl added. This one was tall and slender, with beautiful blond hair. Her face, like the others', was solemn. Scared, almost.

"You," Waters said, gesturing at the boys, "are under arrest for the willful destruction of private property."

"No one owns these houses," the Danvers boy answered.

"Public property, then," Waters adjusted. "I said, put your hands above your heads. Miss Teague, you'd better come over here with me."

"She's not going anywhere," the long-haired boy snapped. "They're right, man. You need to get out of here."

"I don't need to do anything but throw your destructive teenage butts in jail," Waters replied sharply. The last boy, the one that hadn't yet spoken, shook his head angrily.

"We don't have _time_ for this," he said, and Waters noticed that it sounded more like he was talking to Danvers than to him. So Caleb was the ring-leader, eh? He couldn't say he was surprised.

"You should have thought of that before you blew up a mailbox," Caleb told the other boy, who Waters vaguely recognized from his files as Tyler Simms. Kat, the 'missing' girl, clicked her tongue in annoyance and stepped forward.

"Look, Officer-"

"Detective. Waters."

"Look, Detective Waters, I'm sure you're just trying to do your job and all. I know my father called you after I talked to him," she added softly. "But you don't know what's going on, and you can't do anything but get hurt here. So you need to go home."

"Are you threatening me?" She let out a short, disbelieving breath and took another step forward. When she spoke again, the softness was gone. The hard, sharp glint to her eyes returned.

"If that's what it takes, then-"

"Kat," Caleb interrupted. "Shut up. We don't have to do this the hard way." She turned to him, completely disregarding Waters.

"Well, what do you suggest? He's made it pretty damn clear he's not going to leave, and Tyler's right! We can't afford to stand around chatting with the nice detective, and we sure as hell can't go with him!"

"Threatening me would be a very bad idea, Miss Teague," Waters interrupted angrily. He wasn't sure what was going on here, but he didn't like it. Not one bit. He didn't like the way these teenagers, these _children_, were talking as if he had no effect on them whatsoever, or the way they all teemed with something stronger, something deeper, something _darker_ than any pettily illegal underage party. Most of all, though, he didn't like they way they looked at him, as if he were in their way, but could be, very easily, removed from it.

"Hear that? We can't deal with this, Caleb!" The dark-haired boy sighed and waved a hand.

"Fine. But don't hurt him."

"I won't," Kat assured him, turning back to face Waters. "Much." Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, Waters raised the gun again. None of this was making any sense. He'd come out here to _rescue_ this girl, and now she was threatening him as if she could actually hurt him!

"Don't move," he told her. "I'm calling this in."

"No, you're not." And then, before his eyes, she snarled at him, actually _snarled_… and the teeth that showed were long, and sharp, and deadly. Her eyes were suddenly amber-gold. Waters gasped and stumbled back, horrified, his gun hand shaking. Then, before he even registered the movement, her fist was swinging towards his temple.

Blackout.

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"Did you really have to do that? Scare him like that, I mean?"

"Well, he had a gun trained on me! What was I supposed to do, pull a Neo and dodge the bullets?"

"Yeah, yeah. Shaved a few years off his life, though, I bet."

"It worked, though, right? He's out cold. Come on, let's put him in the truck and keep trying. No more blowing stuff up."


	25. FLASHBACK

AN: This is a much-requested flashback into Kat's past, namely what happened when she was bitten. It's said that she doesn't remember any of it, and that's still true in the current time: Kat DOES NOT know how she became a werewolf; she doesn't remember it at all. She barely remembers NOT being a werewolf. That's because I'm going to be using her past in my story, so I can't reveal all just yet! 

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Kit-Kat?"

"Is IT real?" The child, age nine, curled into her father's lap like a dog.

"What's IT, hon?"

"IT. You know, from the book." The man cocked his head, staring at his daughter.

"As in Stephen King's book? You read that?!"

"No, I saw it in the liberry." Kat looked up at her father, tilting her head. "Is IT real?"

"No, baby," he assured her. "Monsters aren't real."

_**Two years ago**_

"_See, saw, marjory daw," sang the little girl. "Hey, ho, jeremy snow." She held her bag, a yellow cloth purse, close to her side. Inside it, a few coins, a comb and a stick of Strawberry Flavor chapstick jostled against each other. The purse was a bright little thing, out of place against the girl's blue jeans and checkered shirt. Out of place against the woodsy backdrop. _

_Coal Mountain, eastern California. Summer. A nice, family vacation. Daddy was back at the camp, and Mommy was asleep in the big tent. She'd go back soon, just as soon as she found the prettiest flowers to pick for Mommy. Surely Mommy would like flowers, right? Didn't everyone like flowers?_

"_Me, my, ollie-ollie-" There was a soft noise from the bushes nearby, a kind of whispery rustle. She broke off. "Hello?" It suddenly occurred to her that it was getting dark, and that, just maybe, she was scared. _

_She didn't even have time to turn around when it came._

_A flash of fur, cold eyes, sharp teeth, and the yellow purse dropped to the ground._

_When Daddy arrived, drawn by the screams, she was curled on the path, clutching her arm. Blood speckled the ground. _

"_Kat? Kit-Kat? What happened?!" _

_It took two hours for her to open her eyes, and three hours for her to speak. When she _did_ speak, it became apparent, to her parents' shock and confusion, that she did not recall the incident at all. _

_The yellow purse lay forgotten in the woods, and eventually, a particularly resilient strand of ivy would grow over it, and it would be as if nothing had happened there at all._

"They aren't?"

"No, Furball, not real at all." Silent, pensive, the child turned her head away from her father and watched a lonesome cloud pass across the moon through the open window.

It was the first time she did not believe him.


	26. Loophole

Chapter 26

"So, uh, what do we do with the unconscious guy in the truck?" Kat glanced at Sarah, who was looking nervously towards the vehicle door.

"We don't let him out of the truck."

"Isn't that… kind of illegal?"

"Kind of." The blond folded her arms and shook out her hair, sighing.

"Great. Crime. Good."

"Well, it's a step up from death by ritual sacrifice," Kat said with a shrug. Sarah nodded in agreement, moving her shoulders in a 'suppose you're right' kind of way.

"Do you think he told anyone else he was coming? I mean, is anyone else going to show up?" Kate looked worried, glancing at Pogue. Kat shook her head.

"He said he was going to call it in. Why would he call it in if he had backup on the way?"

"Yeah, but what if someone gets a little confused as to why he's gone AWOL?"

"We'll deal with that when we have to."

"But-"

"Kate, we don't have a choice," Kat interrupted, running a hand through her tangled hair. "It's not like we could leave or anything."

"I know, I know," the dusky girl replied on a groan. "I just… I wish there was something _we_ could do. Like, head off the cops or something. I don't know."

"I know what you mean," Kat agreed. Sarah nodded. "This sucks."

"Aren't you tired? I mean, what with the being kidnapped and shot and all?"

"More hungry than anything else." Both other girls, involuntarily, gave a slight flinch. Kat's eyes narrowed. "What? I'm not going to _eat_ you!"

"Sorry," Sarah said apologetically. "I'm just a little on edge, you know?"

"Yeah, whatever," Kat threw over her shoulder, going to stand by the fence. She placed her hands on the wood, feeling the rough posts scrape against her palms. The magic of Mary's binding on the house hummed just beyond where she stood, and she could feel its malevolence in her bones. She wanted to move back, move away, but she made herself stand there, gripping the fence with both hands, facing Reid's prison full-on.

Time was ticking down. It was now a little past midnight, which gave them less than three hours. Kat stared at the house, trying to see through the boards that covered the upstairs windows. She wondered what was happening inside. Was Mary hurting Reid? Were they fighting? Talking? Sitting in silence, as Kat was, waiting for the end?

Her grip on the fence tightened, and suddenly there was a static-y crunching sound. Kat looked down, and saw that the section of wooden post she'd been holding was broken and splintered, bits of shattered wood lying on the ground at her feet. She raised her hands away from the fence, and looked at them in mild interest: the moonlight gave the pieces of splintered post sticking out of her palms a silvery tint. Kat pulled two chunks out of her left palm and yanked one long splinter out of her right, hissing at the sharp pain, welcoming the sting. She watched as dark, gleaming blood dripped from her ravaged hands, christening the dirt at her feet. Kat glanced at the others and wiped her palms down the sides of her legs before remembering that she was in Tyler's gym shorts, not her jeans.

"Fuck," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Now, not only would she look like a slut come morning, she'd also look like a mass murderer.

"Oh my god, what happened?" It was Sarah, who'd come up behind Kat to see the other girl looking at her bloody hands.

"Got a little angry at the fence."

"What, so Tyler can't blow things up, but you can crush them with your bare hands?" It took Kat a second to realize that Sarah was joking. She gave a self-deprecating laugh, wiping the rest of the blood away on her borrowed jacket, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, well…"

"Uh-huh. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. It's just a couple scratches."

"Ok," Sarah said more quietly, and then walked back over to where Kate leaned on the truck. Kat didn't watch her walk, but instead turned back to the ruined section of fence. Ruefully, she bent and picked up one of the larger pieces of post that had fallen, holding it up to the jagged end.

"Worth a try," Kat mumbled to herself, chucking the bit of wood onto the lawn. It flew through the air with a soft whistling sound, and landed about ten feet from the porch with a muffled thump. Kat blew some air out and leaned on the fence again, this time keeping her hands away from it. Suddenly, she blinked. Straightening, Kat bent down again and picked up another piece of wood. Cocking her arm, ignoring the twinge her hurt palm gave, she threw the wood into the lawn and watched, intently, as it landed near the first piece.

"Whoa," Kat breathed. "Hey, guys?"

"What," called Caleb. He was doubled over slightly, catching his breath. Kat hefted another chunk of fence and tossed it over to the other two on the lawn. Caleb and the others eyed its progress before looking back to Kat with raised brows. "Wonderful?"

"No," Kat huffed. "You don't get it! I just threw that right through Mary's barrier! _Right through_. _That's _the loophole! _We _can't get in, but other things can!" Pogue straightened beside Caleb, pointing at Kat. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Brilliant," he said, then shouted it. "This girl is brilliant!" Caleb, also smiling, held out his hands.

"We may not be able to crash the party," he said to the girls in a voice that rivaled Reid's in wickedness, "but while we're trying, you three can definitely… shake it up… a bit." Sarah turned to Kat.

"Hey, supergirl," she said, something flintily playful in her pale eyes. "Think you can manage to break that fence a little more?"

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"-so, that being said, I think it would really be wise for you to just give this whole sacrifice thing up and let me-" There was a sudden loud crash, and Reid broke off with a start. "Jesus," he yelped, as the house seemed to echo with the sound of breaking glass. "What the hell?" Mary was on her feet, moving for the door. Reid followed her out of the room, and she didn't try to stop him.

Down the hallway was one of the windows that had been boarded over: the bottom left-hand corner, however, had been uncovered. Now, the glass pane was shattered over the floor, a thick chunk of wood lying amid the shards.

"What on-"

"Like that, bitch? We got more!" The shout was high, feminine, and angry. Seconds later, something else banged against the side of the house, and a musty, dust-covered painting on the wall near the window fell to the bare, wooden floor.

"Forgot to bar _objects_, Maaaary," Reid heard Kat call mockingly, just as another bit of windowpane shattered somewhere in the house. "Oh, and look, what's this?" She was yelling the words as if having a conversation from across a crowded room. "A gun? Our detective friend has a gun? Wonder how good my _aim_ is, Mary!" Moving swiftly, the witch backed away from the broken window. Reid looked at her in disbelief, wondering if she actually thought Kat would try to shoot her through that tiny hole. And what was she talking about, anyway? What detective?

"You aren't accomplishing anything," the redhead called.

"We'll see," another female voice replied. "I played baseball all through middle school." It was Kate. "Let's see if I'm still good at pitching!" On the last word, she let out a grunt of effort, and, to Reid's astonishment, a large chunk of wood flew through the hole in the mostly-boarded window and landed about a foot before Mary's feet. Loudly, he began to laugh.

"Sounds like your plans aren't exactly working out," Reid sneered, making sure to speak loud enough that they'd be able to hear him outside. "_So_ sorry," he added sarcastically, with a mock bow and a shake of his head. He could hear Kat laughing with him, high and wild and vicious. _That's my girl._


	27. Cavalry

Chapter 27

Teresa Manion, High Priestess of Sappho and leader of the California coven, felt ill. She forced herself to take another look at the open laptop computer that rested on her thighs, taking in the damning words and the grisly picture that accompanied them.

**The transfer of power, used at the apex of the donor's magical achievement, is a highly advanced and highly dangerous ritual. The requirement of the lifeblood of a personage of less-than-human attributes has made this ritual **_**non grata **_**in most modern magical circles, as the definition of 'less-than-human' includes beings such as the Sidhe, Seelies, and werewolves, all of which can take the guise of a human and are classified as sentient. Therefore, the sacrifice of one of these alternative species is often viewed as heinous and, in fact, an act of murder. **

**However, some covens find this ritual to be useful in the 'stilling', or removal of power, of rogue members. It can also be used for more nefarious means, forcing an unwilling donor to give up his or her power. **

**The Transfer can be performed by a lone Witch, or by a coven, and requires only two things: the sacrifice, and the donor. It is, in itself, a simple ritual; however, the strength and control necessary to complete the transfer is what makes this task so complex. The sacrifice must be bled before the point of transfer, but the blood must be ready at the exact moment of completion. To accommodate for this, many practitioners have taken to stringing sacrifices above the donor, slitting the throat several minutes before the completion of the ritual to insure bleeding out in time. **

Beside this description was an illustration of a young man lying on his back, face twisted in pain or ecstasy, and a naked woman kneeling at his side. The woman held an open book, and was passing an athame (a sacred knife) over the reclining man. Above the scene, hanging by his ankles, was an older man, his throat slashed. The artist had been generous with the blood, and Teresa found that she couldn't look at the scene for long before becoming nauseous… not only because of the gruesome depiction, but also because her imagination kept wondering how similar to this scene _Mary's_ sacrifice would be, if they were too late.

"Mother?" Teresa looked up, closing the laptop as she smiled weakly at the young woman who was leaning through the car window.

"Yes, Alyssa?"

"The locator spell worked. We've got a mark."

"Let's go, then," she replied steadily, serenely, willing her panic to go down before one of the younger women caught onto the fact that she, their High Priestess, was just as scared as they were.

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"So how exactly were you planning on making me give up my power, anyway? I mean, it's not like you could best me magically," Reid said in a thoughtful way, rubbing his chin. He was leaning against the doorframe of the room where the redhead had kept Kat, watching the witch. She was kneeling in the center of the room, a chalk circle separating her from the rest of the floor. She ignored him.

"Gonna torture me or something? Good luck," he continued, interrupted by the static sound of shouts from outside. Mary didn't answer, but continued drawing symbols around the four

'corners' of the circle with the stick of white chalk she'd taken from a cloth bag she'd pulled out of one of the corners of the empty house, a bag that was now slung over her shoulder like a purse.

Curious despite himself, and addled by her lack of reaction, Reid leaned forward a little and peered at the designs. There was a pentacle at the center of the circle, pointing to what he thought was north. In the pentagram at the middle of the circled star was another circle, with two symmetrical half-moons tangent to either side. Around the circle, in each of the four directions, were a square, a circle with a triangle inside it, a circle with a dot in the center, and an inverted triangle.

"What is that, anyway?" Still no answer. Mary appeared to be concentrating on making her chalk markings as exact as she possibly could, and had not even looked up since she began.

Sighing, he turned his back and strode down the hall towards the broken window. She made no move to stop him, and that disturbed him even more than her lack of response to his jabs. Damn it, he hated it when other people seemed to know something he didn't!

"Hey," Reid called, grabbing the boards that covered most of the window and yanking. They came away easily, and when he swung them at the remainder of the glass, it shattered outward with a crash.

"Reid?" The three girls stopped shouting insults and venom, and the boys stumbled back a bit as they culled off their power.

"Yo," Reid answered, all nonchalance and calm. He had the overpowering urge to jump out of the window, run to them, get the hell out of here… but he knew that wasn't happening. It just seemed so easy. So _close_. His normal senses screamed at him to go for it, but his supernatural awareness was snapping rejoinders that reminded him of the powerful magical barrier that wouldn't let him get so much as a toe out of this hellhole.

"You ok?" It was Kat, sounding just as blasé as Reid himself. He squinted at her in the moonlight, mouth quirking up in a half-grin: she stood, braced with both feet spread for maximum throwing ability, a piece of metal mailbox in one hand.

"I'm fine," he called back.

"Where's the witch," Caleb asked.

"Doing something witchy. She's drawing something with chalk. A circle." Caleb frowned.

"What, of protection?" Reid laughed.

"Somehow, I doubt it. Nah, it's probably for her wacky ritual."

"Kat's out. How can she still-"

"Oh, she's been going on about having other tricks up her sleeves," Reid interrupted, the thin thread of uncertainty beneath his calm showing through.

"Don't worry," Tyler shouted. "We're gonna get you out of there."

"Yeah, you better."

"Reid?" Kat, again.

"Yeah?"

"They're trying," she said, almost flatly, "but hey, it may not work."

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better."

"So I wanted to tell you something, you know, in case everything goes pear-shaped," she continued.

"Wha-" As he spoke, Reid was suddenly aware of something cold and metallic on the back of his neck, something that very quickly became painfully, scorchingly hot. There was a flash of sonic brightness, and then everything went dark.

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Kat took a deep breath. She may have said it to Reid's mother in an angry retort, but saying it to _Reid_ was an entirely different matter. _Come on, girl, say it. I love you. Just three little words. _

"So I wanted to tell you something," she said instead, "you know, in case everything goes pear-shaped." _Dumb shit! Say it! _She opened her mouth, pissed enough at herself to just shout it, and then Reid gave a funny little spasm in the window and dropped like a rock. As he disappeared from view, leaving Mary standing framed in the window with what looked like a taser gun in her hand, Kat could only stand and gape. The witch raised a hand in an almost solemn gesture, and waved goodbye. Then she was backing away, dragging something along behind her. Dragging Reid.

"Reid!" No answer. _Of course_, no answer. "Reid!" She couldn't stop herself from screaming, from calling his name like she was drowning and he was her only lifeline. Kat found herself on her knees, the twisted piece of metal dropping from her hand. "Reid!" A taser gun. Mary had a taser gun. Why hadn't she used it before? She hadn't had it, of course. She'd gotten it somehow, in the time after Kat had escaped. A taser gun, though… that meant Reid was out for at least an hour, depending on the setting. Maybe a couple of hours. He'd be helpless, paralyzed, while Mary could do whatever she damn well pleased. He didn't stand a chance. Kat was screaming, no words anymore, just screaming. All the pent-up terror and rage and hatred and despair flooded out of her, the sight of Reid dropping like a ragdoll thrown down by a bored child playing continuously against her closed lids.

Suddenly, arms were around her. Kat shrieked angrily and swiped at them, beating blindly at whoever dared touch her, and then she was clinging to them, her face ravaged with tears and helplessness. "He's dead," she moaned, a flash of the one other time she'd seen a taser in real life coming back to her: her uncle, a cop, had used one on a would-be convenience store thief when she was a kid. The thief, she later learned, was knocked out for three solid hours and had to stay in the hospital for several more before he regained the full use of his limbs and stopped stuttering when he tried to talk. There was no way Reid could fight back now, and they only had about an hour left. "He's dead." Part of her was cursing in disgust, spitting that she should be strong, should not break, but the bigger part had had enough of noncha-fucking-lance.

"Shh, shh," whoever held her murmured. Kat vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to Sarah, who rocked her slightly. "Hush."

"Excuse me," a new voice said. Kat, still breathing in short, shuddering bursts and shaking visibly in Sarah's arms, looked up slowly. Five women were standing in front of a sleek black car. She hadn't even heard the car pull up. The lead woman raised her head, showing a lined, pleasant face and dark, dangerous eyes. "I don't suppose you know a Reid Garwin, do you?" Kat straightened, letting Sarah's grip on her arm tighten. Caleb stepped forward, eyes flashing. He raised a hand threateningly.

"Why do you want to know? Who are you?" The woman bowed slightly, holding out both hands in a gesture of goodwill.

"I am Teresa Manion, High Priestess of Sappho." The Priestess ignored the way all six teenagers flinched, glancing at the silent house behind them. "You would be the Sons of Ipswich, then?"

"What are you doing here? You're that bitch's coven, aren't you? Get out before we-"

"We are here," Teresa interrupted Kat calmly, "to send Mary Harcortte back to the asylum where she belongs. We are here to, if need be, _still_ or dispatch her before she harms someone else. In short," the mysterious woman finished, holding her hands together as if in prayer, "we are your only chance."


	28. Ascension

Chapter 28

AN: This is it. The big one. And a cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers. PLEASE REVIEW!!! I LOVE YOU FOR IT!!!

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"Double, bubble, toil and trouble," Mary chanted, putting the finishing touches on the Circle. Then, she laughed to herself. "Sorry, Shakespeare." She tucked the worn stick of white chalk into her sleeve, sitting back on her heels to survey her masterpiece.

The Circle was wide, nearly ten feet in diameter. She'd needed it to be big; she had to have room to move. The elemental runes at each corner practically hummed with energy, and if she closed her eyes, Mary could see the pulsating purple light that rose above the smooth continuous line that made up the Circle, creating a metaphysical wall between her and the outside world. The Goddess symbol in the center of the Circle was covered, of course, by the body that lay sprawled on the floor.

Mary let her gaze fall to the boy, whom she had dragged from the window and left at the center of her magical Circle. He was lying on his back, arms flung up above his head where she'd dropped them, body limp with a kind of gangly ease. Conscious, he had a sort of unpredictable grace, she'd noted: he was like a long-limbed puppy who could go from wild, unforeseeable movement to complete, barely-contained stillness in an instant. Not like the girl. No, she moved differently, Mary thought. She was all curvy, sinuous prowl when it came to movement, like a snake or a well-fed tiger. The wolf she could become was quiet and soft, a flash of fang in the dark. It made Mary slightly uneasy, and she was not lying when she decided she was glad the girl was gone.

"Enough waiting," Mary said aloud. She slid into a cross-legged seated position, checking her watch. She had forty-five minutes to destroy Reid Garwin.

Mary rested her hands on her knees, palms up, fingers light and loose. She closed her eyes, unconsciously straightening her spine as she fell into an easy meditative state. This was not the hard part. This was something she had learned years before.

Shhh. In. Out. Breathe. Air. Oxygen. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Focus. Focus the power.

_Focus it on the boy._

_Reid. Garwin. Boy. Teenager. Seventeen. Son of Ipswich. Boy. Blond. Blue eyes. Sharp. Fast. Powerful, but untrained. Not in control. Be in control. Have control over Reid. Seventeen. Eighteen today. Birthday. Birth. Power. Gaining power. Has power now, but gaining more. Dangerous. Addicted. Not in control. Under control. Bring him under control._

_Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Concentrate._

_Position. Attune. Position._

With a deep, cleansing breath, Mary opened her eyes. A smile lit her face at the sight of Reid's body, now lying straight with his arms at his sides.

It was a simple thing, moving the arms, but it showed that she had perfect control over herself and over him, his unconscious mind, when he was not around to fight her.

Bending towards him across her lap, Mary stared at the boy's face. At the fine, white-blond hair falling across his forehead. His lashes, dark crescents against his pale, defined cheekbones. Narrow, elegant nose. A high-class nose. Finely-cut, expressive mouth, naturally curving up at the corners in the faintest hint of a smile. Down to the chin, sharp and determined, and the long, still throat. Chest, covered with bloody cloth, but moving steadily as his lungs breathed life into that still, silent statue. She made herself look hard, look close, take in every detail. In order to do this, in order to command him in the way she was going to attempt, she had to know him as well as she knew herself. She had to _be_ him.

Mary reached out a hand, touching his finger. Moving up to the back of his hand, tracing the knuckles, feeling the smooth, raised bump of a small scar between his thumb and forefinger. Thin, strong fingers; thin, strong wrist. The muscle in his arm was lean and corded, muscle gained from swimming and climbing rather than lifting weights or pushups. The hair was sparse, for a man, and bleached by the sun. She smiled to herself. What sun? He must have gone around outside quite a bit to get this much out of the cloudy Massachusetts sky.

Sitting back, Mary closed her eyes, keeping one hand resting lightly on Reid's forearm.

"Goddess, Lady of the Wild, my Lady Sappho, hear your daughter's cry," she began in a low murmur. "Be with me, Lady, let me walk your path. Lend your power and your grace to my ritual, and commence this day with your might. I come before you to send the Power from this mortal, this man, and bequeath it to your daughters. Help me, Goddess. Help me." Mary felt an electric pulse rush through her body, making her cry out in ecstasy as it traveled through her palm into Reid's body, which gave a slow, rolling spasm. "Fire, Water, Earth and Air, be with me! Lend me your strength!"

There was an inaudible _crack_, a non-sound that Mary felt, and heard, in her bones.

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"She's started."

"What?" The Priestess, Teresa, repeated herself.

"She's started the ritual." Caleb looked from the woman to the house, almost wildly.

"What do you mean, she's started? We still have forty-five minutes!"

"It'll take her that long to get ready. She'll be setting the Circle now, and maybe meditating."

"Then do something," Kat hissed. "Do something magic! _Get us in there!_" Teresa glanced at the werewolf, noticing that she'd asked them to get _her inside_, as opposed to get_ him out_. The Priestess couldn't help but be a little impressed at her bravery.

"We're doing our best. Mary is using a Bind that she stole upon her escape. She's got the door set with a Grace."

"Ok, you're gonna have to speak a li'l English," Kat replied, folding her arms. Teresa let one of the younger women answer.

"A Bind is used to spread a spell. Like, if you have a protection spell on a single room, but you don't have the supplies or the energy to do a spell on the whole house, you could use a Bind to spread the spell throughout the house and hold it. A Grace is a magical lock; you set it on a door and, uh, program it to let certain people in or out. Basically, she's set the Grace and she's using the Bind to spread it over the whole property."

"You know we can throw stuff in there, right? She's only got the, um, Grace, set against humans," Tyler put in. The woman nodded, a little shyly. Kat was looking at her hard. Caleb noticed, and gave the dark-haired girl a questioning look. Kat shook her head, the odd look still on her face.

"Do I know you," she asked the coven member. The witch, instead of shaking her head like Caleb expected her to, got an even stranger look than Kat's on her face: guilt.

"No," she said quickly. Recognition hit Kat like a train, and she gasped.

"You!"

"Alyssa, what is she talking about," Teresa asked, frowning at the younger woman.

"It was you! In the dream! You told me… you told me to wake up," Kat said, sounding shocked. Everyone save the two young women looked completely confused.

"Um," said Alyssa. The High Priestess crossed her arms.

"You what?"

"It was an accident! I was just… I was looking for Mary, and they were so close, and there was so much emotion, I found _her_ instead! I knew that she was about to get shot, so I used the accidental mental link to wake her up." Teresa sighed.

"What have I told you about- Never mind. We'll discuss this later," she decided, sounding for all the world like a school teacher. Alyssa gulped, and shrugged at Kat, who gave her the slightest hint of a smile. The others were all looking at the three women, confusion on their faces.

"Never mind," Kat said to Caleb, Pogue, Tyler and the girls. "I'll tell you later." _If I'm around to tell._

"So," Caleb said brightly, breaking the grimness in the air, "let's break that spell, huh?"

Kat watched the house.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

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"The time has come," Mary said calmly, moving to place her hands flat over Reid's chest. "Goddess, your daughter is ready."

And she began to pray, silently, over the boy.

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"Guys, come ON!"

"We're almost through," Pogue grunted. Kat was pacing.

"'Almost' isn't good enough," she snapped moodily. The past half hour had been spent watching the Sons and the Priestesses stand around looking like they weren't doing a thing, knowing she couldn't help, not even wanting to throw something at the house. A bomb would have been nice, but they had no bomb. Her threat about the gun had been pretty much empty, as Mary was nowhere near the window, and Kat had never actually shot a handgun in her life. The closest thing she'd done was shooting a 12 gauge in the canyon near her uncle's house when she was eleven.

"Shut up and let us work," Caleb said, sounding aggravated. Kat sighed. She knew she deserved it, but she still felt like punching something. Someone. Caleb. No, he had done nothing but what he could do. Punching Mary. Punching wasn't _enough_, though. Stabbing. Skewering. Disemboweling. Gutting. Beheading. _Filleting_. That's_ what the bitch deserves, to be skinned like a fish. No tartar sauce, either. Served raw, like sushi._ _God, I could use some sushi right now. Fucking _starved_, and it's all. Her. Fault._

Kat became aware of the strange looks being given her by Kate and Sarah, and realized that she had been muttering these thoughts aloud. She glared at them, unable to stop herself, and rubbed the cuts on her palms until the pain made her breath come easier.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

The invisible clock ticked away in her mind, counting down the seconds. Minutes. That was all they had, now. Fifteen minutes until Reid was dead.

"Shit," one of the priestesses said. "She's-" And then the woman broke off, glancing at Kat.

"What? She's what?"

She was answered by a scream.

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Mary sucked in a breath, shuddering with it as the body beneath her hands let out a high, ripped cry, almost a shriek, and convulsed. The chanting she had begun a minute before grew louder, struggling to compete with the agonized screams that seemed to tear themselves from the very center of the unconscious boy before her. Echoes of the pain he was feeling shook her to the core, but she held on. This was the hard part. This was the part that would test everything she was, and she _would not be found wanting_.

Reid convulsed again, back straining, fingers clenching and unclenching. Still unconscious, his body twisted and jerked as torrents of liquid fire flooded into him in waves, never relenting. Somewhere in the darkness of his consciousness, Reid huddled in a corner of his own blackness and cried with the pain, hands fisted over his ears to drown out the ever-present clock, the clock that counted down, down, down.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

His eyes snapped open.

"Will me your power," Mary hissed through her teeth, face white as bone. There was a flash, and he saw his nightmare, the face from his nightmare, the bones…

Reid couldn't even answer, but he shook his head hard enough to snap it against the floor with a sharp cracking sound that, for a moment, silenced the damning clock. Another wave. He screamed again, somehow finding the strength to let out the sound. His throat felt raw and sore, and he wondered blindly how long he had been screaming. Whatever part of him that had pride enough to think that screaming was weak had long since been crushed by the pain.

"Will me your power, and it will stop," the witch told him, her hair whipping down and lashing across her white, white face like blood on chalk. He did not even realize that his own face was damp with tears.

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Kat fought. She fought like a wildcat, like a wolf. It took all three of the boys to hold her back, and all three of them were bleeding by the time they calmed her down enough to talk to her.

"Kat! Kat, you fucking bitch, listen to me!" It was Tyler, of all people, his voice unaccustomedly harsh, who got through to her. "Throwing yourself at that shield is not gonna help him! It's only gonna get you hurt!" The brief silence in which he had spoken was torn apart by another gutwrenching scream from inside the house, and Kat jerked, but did not try to fight again. This time, she didn't fall into sobs. Instead, she didn't look at them at all. Didn't move. Didn't even seem to breathe. Cautiously, the three Sons let go of the werewolf, ready to jump in again should she make it necessary, but Kat simply knelt there.

"Kat?" Caleb bent to look into her face, and drew back. Pogue and Tyler returned to their places beside the priestesses, anxiously glancing back at the girl as they poured their power into the effort. Caleb stumbled a little, rising to his feet, and backed away from the teenaged werewolf. The look on her face did not match any of the looks he'd seen from her before. It wasn't pain, or loss, or grief, or rage, or hate. It wasn't murderous, or wicked.

It was blank.

Utter deadness.

Her eyes were flat, cold, emotionless. Nothing there. Slowly, without looking up, so lowly that Caleb could barely hear her over the continued screaming, Kat spoke.

"She's a dead woman."

Caleb had heard death threats before. He'd heard them made in jest, and he'd made them in jest, and he'd had them made against him in all seriousness. He'd heard Kat herself threaten to kill before, and she'd sounded like she meant it… but now, chills were running down his spine. There was no teenage girl in those words, no friend, no human. There was killer. Caleb, hearing that, had no doubts whatsoever that this creature kneeling in front of him would carry out her threat. There was no more mercy inside what had been, and perhaps would be again, Kat Teague.

He went back to his place, and put his mind to magic.

And, with barely a sound, the invisible wall around the house… cracked.

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"Do it! Will me your power!"

Tick. Tock.

"SAY IT!"

Tick. Tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock, tick, tock, ticktockticktockticktocktick

Silence.

Suspended, Reid viewed the scene. Time was stopped. There was no time. He saw himself lying there, a glowing mass of purpleblueclear light writhing in slow motion on his chest: ascension. Mary, kneeling by his body, shouting silently, slow motion. Everything slow motion. Outside, the wall failing, the magic failing, Caleb and Pogue and Tyler and Sarah and Kate and women and oh, oh, Kat, Kat crouching, blank-faced, hunter-faced, Kat with murder in her heart.

"Run, Reid," Caleb shouting, because the wall was down, the wall was broken but it was too late, too late, power, oh the power, oh god and Kat, Kat looking up, Kat seeing a ghost in the air and smiling because she was ready to die and Kat saying, "Do it."

Kat. Kitty Teague. "Kill her," she said, slow motion, no sound, all lips and cold, animal eyes. Proud, vicious Kat.

"Get out of there! Run!" Caleb screaming it, Tyler joining in, running for the house. Kat, still and silent in the road, kneeling on the pavement, smiling.

"Kill her."

And in a press of heat and light, Reid was back in his body and screaming and burning like the sun, and then a soft, soft wave of pressure that sent Mary flying into the wall, sent the boys who were running for the house sailing backwards through the air to crash into the street. A millisecond of calm, and then- 


	29. Rebirth

Chapter 29

AN: Hey, all. This chappie's a bit dark. It has death. Oh noes. Thanks to all my reviewers; you guys are great! Don't change the channel, folks, 'cause there's lots more to come. I have some serious plans for this story, my dears, and I only hope y'all stay with me!

Kat opened her eyes slowly, with an almost audible creaking of the lids. She felt like weights had been placed there, or the medical pins she'd heard they put on recently operated-on lids to keep them closed had been attached. At first, there was only fog: a kind of musty light, a diluted greyness that fuzzed her vision and made her squint uneasily. While the fogginess refused to dissipate, Kat gradually became aware of pain.

Slowly, gingerly, she sat up. Cracked pieces of rubble slid from her chest to the ground with a series of sharp noises, and more dust billowed up. Kat raised a hand to her head, feeling a bump the size of a tennis ball rising on her temple. She felt a sting, and when she brought her hand down, there was red on her fingertips. Kat groaned. A massive headache was springing up.

Blinking hard, Kat tried to draw her legs up to stand. Her left one came up fine, but her right foot seemed to be stuck. As she struggled with it, the blur in the air began to clear a bit. Kat started to make out dim shapes, mainly piles of nonspecific debris. A light breeze swept her hair up from the back of her neck, and the fog swirled away enough for Kat to see the skeletal, vaguely threatening remains of the house on Knight Street.

"Jesus," she said, and her voice sounded scratchy, and strange.

"_Do it."_

She blinked. What had that been? Kat reached down and tugged at her right foot, unearthing it from a pile of broken concrete and heavy timber. The force it took to yank her foot out sent her sprawling backwards, landing on a sharp piece of something hard. Kat cried out hoarsely, sitting back up and rubbing her back. She caught another glimpse of the ruin before her, smoke still rising from the wreckage.

"_Kill her."_

The voice flashed through her head again, an unfamiliar memory, hard and vicious and cold.

"_Kill her."_

When Kat realized it was her own voice, she nearly fell again.

And when she looked at the house again, she was smiling.

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Caleb sat up, a small moan escaping his lips as he shoved someone else's feet off his stomach. He couldn't see anything; the world was lost in a distant grey mist. Dust. Rubble, everywhere. He shook his head, eyes going black for an instant. The clouds of fog swirled away in a steady, swift torrent, leaving the night air cool and clear.

"Oh my god…"

The house… there _was_ no house. Only the broken, gutted frame, the guts of the place strewn all across the lawn and the flat, dull road. A mountain of splintered, destroyed wood and broken glass was piled haphazardly in the center. It looked as if a bomb had gone off in the middle of the house, exploding it outwards in a destructive, quasi-nucleic blast. With a queasy thrill, Caleb realized that, in a way, that's exactly what had happened.

With this thought came a fear so sudden and so acute that it stopped his breath. He felt, rather than imagined, the blood draining from his face like thick liquid poured from a clear glass.

"Reid."

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As Kat rose to her feet, the fog was swept away as if by… magic. She glanced around, saw Caleb carefully standing. Tyler was lying at Caleb's feet, and she could make out other groaning figures coming to. Caleb's face was dead white, frighteningly white, and his gaze was locked on the remains of the house. His lips moved in a word she couldn't hear, her ears half-deafened by the blast, but she could read the simple syllable. Kat could feel her heart beating steadily, a low, rhythmic thudding that sounded suddenly like a tribal drum. She began to walk, limping, holding a hand to the cut and bump on her head.

Caleb, too, was picking his way across the rubble. Behind him, Tyler was trying to sit up, and failing. He fell back with a sharp cry, hands flying to his ribcage. Kat saw it, dismissed it. He was alive. He would mend.

She was barefoot. Her feet, coming down unevenly on concrete and wood, hurt. She dismissed that, too.

It seemed to her like everything was moving slower than usual, and faster at the same time. Like walking through a whirlpool. The shock was gone, as was the animal pleasure she'd felt at the thought of the utter destruction her warlock

(lover)

had wrought. All Kat felt now was… a sort of blindness, a nameless certainty that kept her moving, kept her stepping over the jutting bits of glass and avoiding the most obvious nails as she made her way over the ruined lawn and towards the shell of the front door.

"Kat!" Caleb's normally warm voice was taut and stretched thin over something terrible. Kat didn't pause. "Don't go in there!"

"I'm getting him out," she responded evenly, stumbling a little and catching herself neatly. Caleb made a long, loping stride and caught her arm, spinning her halfway about. She watched him cattily, her brown eyes burning with a secret light. Caleb ignored the warning written in every line of her face.

"Kat, listen to me," he said, and the desperation in his voice made her still to his hand, granting him the right to continue. His eyes pleaded, but they weren't pleading with _her_. They were pleading, she realized in confusion, for _him_ to be wrong. Pleading with _himself_, begging for what he was saying _not _to be true. "You're going in there for Reid."

"I know that," she said, just as evenly, and made to pull away. Caleb finished in a rush.

"But what you find may not be him anymore. It may not be him at all."

Kat slid her arm out of Caleb's grip and he did not stop her again.

"He could kill you," he said quietly. She didn't look back, but did pause briefly. He understood that it wasn't a hesitation, but a gift.

"I know that, too."

And then she walked, carefully, into the broken remains of Mary's special trap.

There was nothing there. Nothing but wreckage and ruin and destruction. Kat could feel the power in this place, the power that rose and spilled and licked at the edges of her being. Out of destruction, comes rebirth.

Reid was destruction.

What was born?

She didn't call out for him. Just picked her way to the center of the mess, moving by instinct. Climbing swiftly, Kat reached the top of the chaotic heap in the middle of the gutted floor, the twinges of pain from her right foot minor distractions. There, like the pit of a small volcano, was a clear space in the rubble. Two figures lay, flopped like rag dolls. One had messy red hair and twisted, motionless limbs.

The other was leaner, blond. He lay limply, equally motionless… and a good two or three inches above the ground. As Kat jumped lightly into the shallow pit, her breath caught warily: his eyes, wide open despite his obvious lack of consciousness, burned black as twin chunks of coal.

"Ow," the redheaded rag doll moaned. Kat turned sharply, her hair whipping around her face. Mary wasn't moving, but her eyes were open and mildly unfocused. Kat scanned the older woman quickly: looked like a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder, a severely smashed up collarbone (something white was jutting from the bloody mess between her shoulder and neck) and a nasty bruise that covered the entire right side of her face. Kat felt like she should feel some sort of satisfaction at Mary's pain, which would almost certainly be fatal if left much longer, but she felt nothing. The witch focused on her and coughed a little, not trying to move. "You're too late," she said through broken teeth.

Kat took one step forward, bent down, and snapped the redhead's neck.

"Promise kept," she murmured before turning back to Reid. Or, back to Reid's hovering, magic-saturated _body_.

Kat reached out a hand, steeling herself for it, and touched the pale, still cheek.

Nothing happened.

His cheek was colder than she'd expected, and soft. The black eyes did not change or focus, and he didn't fall out of the air. There was no electrical charge to zap her, no magical burst to fling her away. Just... nothing. It was like there was nothing of Reid left in his own body, only power.

"Shit," she whispered. Closing her eyes, Kat let herself Change just a bit, just enough to give her the strength to hook her arms beneath Reid's knees and shoulders and lift him out of his supernatural resting place. He was much lighter than she'd thought he'd be, body lithe and light, like a dancer's. She lifted him onto the ledge of the pit, hefting herself up and clambering over the edge. Bending again, kneeling as if she were at prayer, Kat lifted the boy again and began to walk, blank-faced, proud in her barefoot, bloodstained glory.

She left Mary in the ghost of the house on Knight Street. Nothing but a body.

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Caleb held a hand to his ribs, wincing. Something in there was broken, he was sure. He wasn't sure why he didn't follow Kat into the house, but he didn't question it. It was better, he'd found, not to question these things. Squinting, he saw the lonely, noble rescue in reverse: the woman carrying out the man. Something in his chest seemed to compress and tighten, a clamp against his heart. Reid, from this distance, looked dead.

From behind him, shaking and harsh, a voice.

"Don't you all fucking move. You're all under arrest."

Damn, he thought. The cop.

Turning, Caleb saw his people standing now, rubbing various injuries, trying not to trip as they moved towards him. And behind them, leaning out of the truck, the detective. Holding in his hand a police baton (quite useless at this point) and Pogue's forgotten cell phone.


	30. Interrogations

Chapter 30

"Stay away from us!"

"Put down the boy, Miss Teague," called one of the cops who'd shown up moments after Waters' alert. Kat's eyes darted to the ambulance where the others were being loaded onto stretchers and lifted into the back. Caleb, she thought, would have struggled… had he not been sedated from behind. The only reason she was still standing was the fact that she was carrying Reid, and they were probably afraid he'd break his neck if she dropped him.

"Don't come any nearer," she snarled, glancing down at Reid's face. His eyes… dear god, they _couldn't_ be black when the paramedics took him. _Come on, baby, push the magic back. You can handle it. Come on._

They were stepping closer, holding hands out as if she'd really believe they wouldn't hurt her. Kat looked down at Reid again, growing desperate. He was still humming with power, they were all under arrest for assaulting a police officer and blowing up a house, there was a dead woman in the wreckage, and she had nowhere left to run.

"Stop it," she gritted beneath her breath, shaking some hair out of her eyes. The eyes did not go blue.

"You've got nowhere to go, Kat," Waters yelled. "Give it up." She glared at him, and he flinched, but said nothing. Apparently, he'd convinced himself that what he'd seen… he hadn't _really_ seen.

_Please, Reid, please, _she thought frantically. _I can't protect you from all of them. I _need_ you to wake up. _

"Ow."

She was so startled she almost _did _drop him. As it was, Kat took a sharp, staggered breath, and fell to her knees. Reid moaned again, the eerie blackness waning to a clear sapphire. He blinked at her, a trickle of blood running from one corner of his mouth.

"Oh, thank god," Kat sighed, smiling at him. "Welcome back."

"What- happened?" She could hear the officers and paramedics coming, and ignored them.

"Not- not a lot," Kat lied, seeing the panicked confusion in his face. "How do you feel?"

"Chest-hurts," he answered, jerkily. His eyes didn't quite seem focused. He coughed, and his teeth were stained red as more blood dribbled from between his lips. She felt something wet on her arm where she was cradling his head, and realized that he was bleeding from the ears as well. Kat silently cursed. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she knew it wasn't good.

"You're gonna be fine. Don't worry."

"Mary?"

"Don't worry about her," Kat said again, her eyes filling despite herself. She smiled through the thin veil of tears and gently put her hand against his cheek. "It's over," she lied again. "It's all over."

He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Never- ow- play poker," he grunted. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Shh, you shouldn't talk," she said finally. "You're supposed to be too wasted to notice when I'm lying."

"I'm just- that- good-" He broke off, face going limp as the paramedic she hadn't even noticed slipped a needle into his shoulder. Kat let them take him from her, not even feeling the second needle enter her neck.

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When Reid opened his eyes, it was to whiteness. Clean, hospital whiteness, to be more clear. He blinked, waiting for it to go away. It didn't.

"Oh, shit," he muttered. He had a bone-numbing headache, and there was a vaguely painful pressure on his ribcage, but other than that, he felt ok. No real reason to be in the _hospital_, right? Reid struggled to remember what had landed him here. Mary… and pain… and Kat saying… saying… and then there had been an explosion. And after that, he had a fuzzy memory of Kat again, and then nothing.

"Good morning, Mr. Garwin," a voice from his left said coolly. Reid turned his head, finding that the movement made the migraine shoot even sharper bursts of pain through his skull. His vision blacked for an instant, and then cleared. A man was sitting beside his bed. Short, crisp brown hair, clean clothes, bland expression. An official of some kind. Reid knew the type.

"Speak for yourself," he answered, sounding distinctly surly. "Where is everyone else?"

"They're fine."

"I didn't ask how they were, I asked _where_ they were," Reid snapped. He was in no mood to play nice.

"In custody. Here in the hospital."

"Custody," Reid repeated slowly, frowning. "What custody?"

"Police custody." As this was sinking in, the man continued. "I'm Lt. Boyler, Ipswich PD." Reid frowned again. This didn't make sense.

"The cops? What the hell?"

"What do you remember about the past twenty-four hours, Mr. Garwin? Or can I call you Reid?"

"You can call me Reid if I can call you shithead," the bedridden teen responded, trying to buy time. Boyler didn't look impressed.

"Don't make it any worse for yourself, Reid," he said. "We already know almost everything. Your friends were awake before you; they've already talked. You can really smooth your ride over if you fill in the gaps." Reid sat up a little, hoisting himself onto his elbows a few inches before the pressure on his chest became unbearable and he had to stop. _Broken ribs_, he though absently.

"What gaps? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Tell me what happened, Reid. Tell me who killed Mary Harcortte."

With a small sound, Reid fell back onto the bed as his arms gave out. He felt a moment of complete and utter shock.

_Tell me who killed Mary Harcortte._

…_who killed Mary Harcortte…_

…_killed…_

And even though he knew it was stupid and pointless, Reid couldn't stop himself from asking it.

"She's dead?" He heard the surprise in his voice, and also heard the relief, and prayed that his obvious shock overpowered the other emotion, in the lieutenant's ears.

"You _know_ she's dead, son. We already know what happened, but there're a few things you could fill us in on. So don't bother hiding anything, and don't bother lying; you can only make it better. You can't make it right." Boyler was looking at him as if he fully expected him to tell him everything he wanted to know.

"I want my lawyer here," Reid said instead. He didn't know shit about law, but he'd seen enough legal dramas on TV to know the basics.

"Reid," Boyler said quietly, "you've already been incriminated. All you're doing here is telling me what you remember, not making a case for yourself."

"Do _not_ call me that. I'm not telling you anything."

"I don't think-"

"_Ob_viously not."

"All right," the agent said, slapping his hands down on his thighs decisively. "I can see you're intelligent enough, so I'll cut the crap."

"Please." Boyler leaned forward, the mildly interested look wiping from his face like paint from skin. It was replaced with cold solemnity.

"Tell me why you killed her." This time, Reid's hands flew up defensively.

"Hey, hey, pal, watch who you accuse! I didn't kill anyone." Boyler shook his head.

"Stop playing games, boy."

Slowly, Reid's hands sank to his sides again.

_Oh, man._

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"I want to see my father."

"Tell us what happened."

"I'm not saying jack until I see my father. And my lawyer, while you're at it. In fact, let's just stick with 'I'm not saying jack'. That seems to cover everything nicely." Kat's tone was acidic, and if she wasn't too sedated to stand, she'd complete the bite of her voice with a little intimidating of the humans. Unfortunately, she couldn't sit up, much less stand, so she was stuck snapping.

"Why did you run away? Why did you assist in blowing up that house? Were you an accomplice to the murder of-"

"Murder? Murder?!"

"Mary Harcortte was found dead in the ruins of that house. She'd suffered multiple blows to the chest and face, and her neck was snapped."

"What, and that couldn't have happened when the goddamn _house_ _blew up_?" The werewolf was pissed. Beyond pissed. She'd been here for the past twenty hours, recuperating, and repeatedly doped. She hadn't been allowed to see anyone save for these damned police people, and they wouldn't tell her anything substantial about any of the others. They were alive, at least, if these nimrods were to be believed.

"Come on," the female cop said. "We both know it didn't. Why don't you just talk to us, Kat?"

"Oh, piss off."

"You're not making this any easier on yourself." Kat looked at the woman and the man sitting next to her, and began to laugh.

"No," she said finally, still smiling. There was genuine amusement in that smile, and in her voice, mixed with the irritation and frustration. "_You _aren't making it any easier on _yourselves_."

"Is that a threat?"

But Kat would say no more.


	31. Conscience

Chapter 31

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers, as always, and a special thanks to **xBrokenDreamerx** for the great tip. Kat might have some fun with that one… ;)

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"We have to help them."

"We can't."

"But- but it's our fault this happened in the first place! We can't just abandon them!"

"Alyssa," Teresa snapped, rubbing her eyes, "drop it. There is nothing we can do. We just barely managed to get away ourselves. If the Garwin boy hadn't caused such a _foggy _ruckus, we'd have been seen."

"But-"

"Alyssa!" The younger woman fell silent, turning her face away. Teresa sighed. "I'm sorry, but we really can't risk it."

"I thought you weren't afraid of risks when it came to doing the right thing," Alyssa said pointedly. "If you won't help them, I will."

"You most certainly will not. I am High Priestess, and-"

"And I am still a Priestess of Sappho, with the right of speech and the right to oppose decisions I feel are made wrongly. I am not going to let these people die because we couldn't restrain our own, Mother!"

"Alyssa," Teresa said in a gentler tone, "I do not want to condemn these children, but think about it. What could we possibly do to help them without incriminating ourselves in the process?" The mocha-skinned woman shot her elder a sideways glance, her sharp chin at an angle.

"Break them out."

There was a moment of silence.

"Remember the part where I specifically said '_without_ incriminating ourselves'?" Alyssa shrugged.

"Secretly. Break them out _secretly_."

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"I want my phone call."

"Who are you going to call?" Reid sneered.

"Your mother. I want to explain why I won't make it tonight."

"Who are you gonna call, kid?"

"Ghostbusters." The cop shook his head tightly, visibly smoothing his face and taking a deep breath. Two hours. Two fucking hours of this, and three more before he could go home.

"Look, kid, work with me. I don't want to be here either."

"Yeah, but you're not the one in the hospital bed, pal. Now give me that phone, and let me make my goddamn call."

Sighing, the cop handed Reid the small portable phone, holding up his hands in exasperation when Reid eyed him pointedly and turning around.

"You've got five minutes, Garwin. I'll be right outside. Any funny business, and-"

"Save it, Mario. This ain't the mafia." He waited for the door to swing gently closed, waited a little longer for the click, and then brought the phone up to dial. Reid hesitated briefly, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Wasting his call. He was pretty sure it was pointless. Pretty sure, in fact, that it was _beyond_ pointless. Actually, Reid decided, he might as well call the President to come bail him out.

But he found himself dialing anyway, his fingers going instinctively for the buttons that, had he been asked, he might not have been able to string together into a phone number.

_She won't pick up. She never picks up._

_But she'll hear the message. She listens to those, in case one of her boy toys calls._

_She'll hear. _

"You've reached the Garwin residence," his mother's voice said, a cheerful residual memory from a life that no longer existed for either of them. The message was ancient. She'd recorded it when they first bought the new machine, when Reid was no older than three or four. Reid took a deep breath as the automated feminine voice came on the line, telling him to please record his message after the beep, and to wait afterwards for further options if he wanted.

"Hey. Mom." He'd always felt weird calling her that, but it felt even weirder calling her by her actual name. "It's Reid." Duh. "I'm in some trouble. Real trouble." He sighed on the line, deep and tired. "Basically, some shit went down and someone died. Long story short, I've been- we've been- arrested. I'm at the hospital. I know you don't really… Look, I know you don't like me. And hey, it's mutual. But I need help. I need money. You've got it, Mom, I know you do. I need-" 

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"-you to bail me out. I don't know what bail's set at, but you can find out. I have to get out of here before they find out what's really going on. God, I've never asked you for anything. You've never given me anything. So you damn well better do this for me, Mom. Just… Help me out, ok?"

She listened to the sound of breathing for a second, and then a muffled click as the phone was turned off. Silence. A beep as the message alert light began to blink.

There was another sound, a dull thud, as the bottle she'd been carrying from the kitchen slipped from her fingers and landed on the carpeted floor. Across the room, the mirror reflected a washed-out woman in short silk night-shorts and a lacy slip, her shiny blond hair falling like a waterfall down her back. Her face, shadowed with beauty and drawn with age, disappointment and discontent, held a curious expression of pinched confusion.

"_Reid's in danger."_

"Oh, please," she said aloud. "Ghosts." Her voice was a bit drifty, but not yet slurred.

"_I never wanted him."_ She took another drink from the glass still in her left hand and shook her head. Picked up the phone.

"_He left me! Selfish bastard had to go and _die_ on me, and now what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do with the baby? I don't want to be saddled with a goddamn _kid_ at my age! Tell me, damn it, someone tell me _what I'm supposed to do with this_!"_

"Shut up," she snapped, throwing the phone at the wall. It hit with a sharp sound, clattering to the floor. A battery spilled out of the back.

"_I've never asked you for anything. You've never given me anything._"

"Goddamn kid," she muttered. "Wants money. Money!" An image of a tiny blond baby, crying. He always cried. In the night, when she was tired, so tired after- and the baby always cried. She just wanted him to shut up. Just… be quiet. Leave me alone. It was always something. Damn rebellious boy, always in some kind of… And then the girls, and the… And the _thing_, the _thing_ underneath, the _magic_… She just wanted him to shut. Up. He kept… He brought it back, all of it, the _before_, from back _then_, and he looked like… like… and he wouldn't just go away, because he always seemed to come _back_.

She pounded a fist against the small table where the phone had been sitting, the corner of her clenched hand coming down on the answering machine. The 'play' button depressed, and with a light _click_ Reid's voice came on again and filled the room.

"Hey. Mom." Mom. _Mom_. She never wanted to be someone's _Mom_. She never wanted it. Didn't want it. Didn't goddamn want- Another drink. The wine felt good sliding down her throat, an old friend soothing.

"I'm at the hospital. I know you don't really… Look, I know you don't like me."

"Damn straight," she snarled. "Damn… str… aw, hell," she finished sloppily as the last of her wine spilled down her chest.

"Just… Help me out, ok?"

Click.

"_You have no idea who your son is… he saved my life tonight."_

Veronica Garwin pressed a hand to her forehead, blinking hard.

"Shit." She set the wineglass down, and pulled on her long, mink housecoat.


	32. Reunions

Chapter 32

AN: I'm sorry for taking so long to update!

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Reid's eyes were closed, more obstinately than tiredly. The cop pestering him _would not shut up_. It had been two hours since he made that damn phone call, and nothing. Nothing. What had he expected? _Thanks a bunch, Mom._

"I know you're awake." Reid ignored him. There were more important things to think about. Such as the fact that he did not _remember_ what had happened to Mary Harcortte. He didn't remember coming here. He didn't… And there was something else, something far more subtle and far more worrying.

He felt… different. He'd ascended, of course, but Caleb had told him that it felt no different, save for when you _used_, because you had far more power. But he wasn't _using_ now, and he could feel _it_ in his bones. Something. Something in him, something that hadn't been there before. Reid shivered minutely. What had _happened _to him in that house? He had a vague memory of Kat's face, a blurry mixture of scared and relieved, staring down at him after the explosion. Why had she been so scared? Obviously he wasn't hurt all that badly. Just a few broken ribs and a bump on the head, actually. Why had she been so goddamned terrified-looking? Was it fear for him? Or… Reid swallowed. Had it been fear _of_ him?

"Ma'am, you're not-"

"I'm no such thing. Get out before I have you thrown in jail, you ugly little man." That voice… Every molecule of Reid's body seemed to freeze all at once. Slowly, disbelievingly, he opened his eyes.

Veronica Garwin, dressed in full-tilt upper-class finery, stood regally and _soberly_ in the doorway. The cop was staring at her, half-impressed, half-angry. Reid just gaped, shocked. Not shocked entirely that she'd come, but shocked at the way she looked: clean, in control, proud… _normal._

"How dare you question my son without a lawyer present? Have you even read him his rights? I don't suppose you have. Get out of here, and maybe I won't press charges." The contempt in her voice was a familiar sound to her son, who had heard it directed at him many a time. So he wasn't surprised to see the officer slink out of the room like a kicked dog. When they were alone, Mrs. Garwin strode to the seat the cop had been using and sat down with all the grace of Scarlett O'Hara.

"What happened," she asked simply. Reid stared at her, trying to read her expression or her eyes or… But there was nothing. The haughty belle was gone, having performed marvelously, replaced with… the statue. But she was here, and that was what was important, right? She was here.

"Some bitch wanted to steal my power," he said quietly. "So she kidnapped Kat because she's a werewolf, and then tricked me into getting trapped as well. She was gonna kill us both. I got Kat out, but I was still inside. She and the others started trying to rescue me. I blew up the house in the end, and I might have… I don't know. Somehow, Mary – that's the one who set the whole thing up – ended up dead."

"So you're under arrest for blowing up the house, and killing this woman?"

"That's what I hear." There was a long silence, mother and son watching each other warily. Reid eyed Veronica's face, taking it in. It wasn't often he got to see her without the influence of anything but real emotions. Now, it was a face he almost didn't recognize.

Then, quite suddenly, she began to laugh.

"You stupid boy," she chuckled, "you're just… just like your father." With those last words, her laughter trailed off, leaving a wake that Reid missed despite himself. He frowned at her.

"What?"

"He…" She stopped, awkwardly, and cleared her throat. "Never mind."

"Why are you here," Reid asked, suddenly unsure of himself and her. "What are you doing?"

"Why, I'm getting you out," she responded coolly.

"And… why are you doing that?" He wanted to hear it. Greedily, his heart clamored for her words, her acceptance of him into her own. He hated the wanting, hated the weakness, but wanted it nonetheless.

"I have no idea," his mother answered, just as coolly, and he understood that that was true. She really did not know. But that was a step, he supposed. Better than 'because you'd be a disgrace to the family name if I didn't' or something of the like.

"Oh. Well, cool."

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"Let's face it," Kat said holding out her hands. She was sitting up in the bed, cross-legged. "You really have no grounds to keep me here. You have no proof, no witnesses, no nothing. You have no grounds to arrest me at all."

"Officer Waters-"

"What? Are you still saying _I_ knocked him out? _Me_? A seventeen-year-old _girl_? Yeah, that's rich. You honestly think I could punch out a full-grown officer of the law with a single hit?" She shook her head as if astounded at the stupidity of it all. "As for the explosion, I had nothing to do with that. You have no way of proving I did. You won't let me see my father, or my lawyer, and you didn't even read me my freaking rights before _doping _me and locking me up in here! I'll sue you! I'll sue your goddamn pants off if you try and keep me here!"

Half an hour later, Kat sniffed and folded her arms across her bloody-clothed chest as she stalked out of the hospital. She would have called her father, but it was only a few blocks from the hospital to the suburb where she lived, so she decided instead on scaring the living daylights out of anyone she came across. _Stupid hospital. Didn't even give me clean clothes._

She smirked, thinking of the hospital, and then thinking of the cops. More to the point, thinking of the _look_ on the cops' faces when she'd thrown down her little gauntlet. They so had not seen that coming. And, after a couple death glares and a strict 'do NOT leave town', they'd let her go. She had no doubts that she would be watched, but Kat was happy enough to be out of the goddamn bed. Alive. Physically fine. Mentally? Well, she preferred not to think about that. Kat swiftly shoved away the mental image of Mary's broken body. Right now, she was going to go home, hug her father for about an hour, and take a shower. Then, she would see what was going on with the others.

Much to Kat's disappointment, there were no small children playing in the yards of the suburban houses she passed on her way home. No mothers to freak out with her bloodstained clothes and bandaged hands.

When she reached her own house, Kat found that she could not open the door. Couldn't even reach for the knob. She felt a rush of blood to her head, and swayed a little. It seemed so… _wrong_, somehow, like she wasn't supposed to actually be _safe_. Gritting her teeth, Kat shook her head.

"You made it, girl, now open the damn door!" With that bit of self-encouragement, Kat stretched out one cleanly-wrapped hand and grasped the doorknob. It turned easily, and she pushed the door open. "Hello? Dad?"

Nothing.

Kat stepped inside. It was late-afternoon, so it was possible he wasn't home yet. Inhaling, Kat smelled the heady scent of familiarity, and nearly cried with it. She jogged upstairs to the bathroom with the shower in it, and stripped in what felt like milliseconds. Carefully unwrapping the bandages on her injured hands, she laid them on the sink and turned on the shower. Stepping inside, she _did_ cry… or maybe not. Maybe it was just the hot water, trailing down her cheeks.

Blood, dirt, despair, fatigue, all of it washed away and swirled down the drain at her feet. Kat ran her hands through her hair, careful to avoid direct contact with her palms. The cuts were closed, and she'd only had stitches in one of them, but they still hurt. Now, though, she felt… reborn. And in a way, she was. She'd died, and been brought back. She had been given, if she chose to see it so melodramatically, a second chance at life itself.

When Kat stepped out of the shower and pulled on her bathrobe, which still hung on the back of the door from the last time she'd used it, there was the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs. She slipped the bandages back on her hands and opened the bathroom door, not even bothering to try and dry her hair.

For the first time in her life, Kat understood what it was to fly.

Down the stairs like a bird, an angel, an honest-to-god _Superwoman_, she hurtled into her father with all the force of a small child desperate for touch. Her arms wrapped around him like a lifeline, and her face buried in his shoulder.

"Daddy," she cried, "Daddy, I'm back. I'm back."

"Oh god," he murmured, haltingly, choked. "My baby."

They stood there in the foyer, clinging to each other, for a long, long time.


	33. Schizo

Chapter 33

Freed, exhausted and decidedly ill at ease, Reid crumpled shirts and tossed ripped jeans to the floor. He was at home, or at the huge old house a child had once called home. His mother was down the hall, once more ensconced in her bedroom, as if she had done her duty and was now released from all further parental obligations. As far as Reid was concerned, she _was_. He didn't expect anything. He had learned.

This was bad.

This whole situation was _bad_.

Chase had been bad. Chase had been fucking awful. But Chase had also been _one of them_. That catastrophe had been contained, something the Four could deal with by themselves. This… This was the _law_. This was _murder_. Sure, they could try the line about Kat having been kidnapped by Mary Harcortte, but how believable would _that _be? Detective Waters could testify that Kat had assaulted him, or just that she had most definitely threatened him. Mary herself was one woman, hardly capable of both kidnapping a healthy teenage girl _and_ keeping another strong, capable young man captive. The stun gun had been destroyed in the explosion. They could hardly tell the authorities that she'd tortured them with _magic_.

That was another thing. The magic. The Sons of Ipswich were now officially being watched. They were under suspicion. The only way they would be able to defend themselves against charges of destruction, homicide, and hell, maybe even kidnapping, was to tell the truth. Give up the secret. But to do that was practically _suicide_.

In short, as Reid realized for the seventh time, there was no way out.

"Fuck!" He grabbed the heavy glass candle holder by his bed and hurled it against the wall, making a satisfying crash. Glass flew everywhere, the shattered pieces sprinkling down like deadly rain. The sound as first the base, then the outer shards hit the ground, seemed almost like something Reid could _feel_ rather than hear. He felt an odd twist of nausea, and then-

_Sitting on the bed. Feet flat on the floor. Bare feet. Cold floor. Hands in the lap, fingers limp like bits of clay. Staring at the wall. Glass. Glass everywhere. Glass on the floor. Eyes blank. Black, blank eyes, lax face. Mouth open. A slow, ominous trickle of saliva down the chin. Pathetic. _

_Use the power. _

_It's in you._

_Use it._

_End it._

_End everything._

_There's no way out. Nothing to do but… check out. This hotel's getting old. Time to check on out. You can do it, you know. You've got the _power_, the _power_ to make all this… go… away…_

_Do it. Do it. End it all. Fucking do it, you pathetic sniveling little coward. You couldn't handle this much power anyway. Might as well use it now before you jump off a bridge and waste it all like the no-good loser you are. Always have been, always will be. You were an addict long before Mary came along. You know it's true. You never admitted it, but you know it's true. You were always bound to lose your fucking mind, and that's a fact. Look at you. Sitting here, practically comatose. The power. It's too much for you. It's always been too much. Kat? Kat doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. You'll kill her, you jackass. If you don't go to jail first. _

_So_

_Just_

_End-_

"What the hell are you doing?" Reid blinked, the queasy feeling in his stomach not dissipating. His head was aching, and when he put a finger to his face, he found a tiny trickle of something wet. Blood? No. Spit. He swallowed, wiping his finger on his pants, and looked up. Veronica Garwin stood in the doorway, her icy eyes locked on the glass shards covering the floor by the wall. Reid, heart pounding, waved her away and slammed the door shut. He turned his back to it, sliding down the wood to sit against the closed door.

He felt like throwing up. His head was dizzy, his breathing erratic. Something had just happened. Something big. Reid tilted his head back, leaning it against the bottom panel of the door. He closed his eyes. He couldn't remember. He _couldn't remember_. He'd… thrown the candle holder… and he'd been sitting on the bed… and… then…

And then _what_? When he'd looked up to see his mother, he'd been standing, hands fisted at his sides as if… as if… as if he were _readying _himself for something. Reid found that he was shaking, and came to another conclusion.

He was fucking terrified.

The crawling, uneasy feeling that had haunted him since his awakening in the hospital was heightened, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling on end. Something had changed. Something had… _shifted_.

Things had just gotten a whole lot worse.


	34. Betrayals

Chapter 34

"_Caleb, it's Reid."_

"_Yeah, man? You ok?"_

"…"

"_Reid, you're out, right?"_

"_Yeah. I got bail. You?"_

"_Mmhmm. Same with the others, but Ty's still in the hospital. I was contacted by one of those… the priestesses. You know, the Daughters of Sappho or whatever they call themselves. They want to help."_

"_Caleb, we gotta split."_

"_What?"_

"_They're gonna find out, man! We can't keep this a secret!"_

"_Calm down. It'll be ok. We'll figure this out. We've got help, remember."_

"_I can't- Don't tell me to calm down."_

"_Look, I know it seems bad. Remember when they thought I was some psycho arsonist?"_

"…_they _still_ think you're a psycho arsonist. Only now, they think you're a kidnapper, too. Lucky they haven't fuckin' pinned you for _murder_."_

"_Reid. Listen. We can-"_

"_Shit, Caleb, _you_ listen! Something's… something's _happening_ to me."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_I- I don't know. Something's… it's… it's bad. Like there's someone- some_thing_- in my head."_

"…_like voices?"_

"_It's weird, ok?! I don't fucking know what's going on, but it isn't good, and I think something real bad is gonna go down. I have to get out of here. You guys should come. We can't get out of this. Me, especially. They think I killed that bitch, Caleb! And I don't even know if I did or not! And with this… this thing…"_

"_What exactly is happening, Reid?"_

"_I had… it was like a blackout. I just… I heard… it was saying things. Like, telling me to… do stuff. Bad shit. And it threatened you guys, and- and Kat. It sounded… it was _me_, Caleb. I have to leave. We have to leave. Just the four of us. Take the attention off the girls."_

"_Reid, you're talking crazy."_

"_Are you _listening _to me?! Look, I'm getting out of town. I have to deal with this, without blowing someone else up."_

"_You didn't-"_

"_You saw that house. I gotta go."_

"_Reid. Reid!"_

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"So you ran off with this boy _why_?" Kat slumped in her chair, rubbing her forehead. Why couldn't she just tell the goddamn truth? For _once_? She'd had full intentions of telling her father everything. _Dad, I'm a werewolf. I just killed someone, but they're blaming my boyfriend, the warlock. _Only… only it hadn't exactly come out that way. After binging on two boxes of macaroni and cheese with orange juice, she'd sat down in the living room and opened her mouth and-

"Well, we were going to have a party in this old house, only one of Reid's friends brought beer, so we had to clean that up, and then we were carting it down to the basement but I tripped over a blacksnake and fell down the stairs and hit my head, and Reid had to go call 911, only the phone lines had been cut because the friend who brought the alcohol also brought his aunt, who's an escaped convict, and she was psycho, and she-"

Kat was interrupted by the humming tones of the doorbell. _Oh, thank god_.

"I'll get that. It could be the police." _Possibly not the best thing to say, but…_ She walked quickly to the door, still in her bathrobe, and started twisting her hair into a knot at the back of her head as she opened the door. Her hands froze, the coil of hair slipping from her grip to slap against her back.

"Hey, babe," Reid said. His blond hair was mostly slicked back wetly from his face, as if he'd just come from the shower, with a few rogue strands arching over his forehead. There was a bruise covering one side of his face that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him, and there were purple dashes beneath those piercing eyes. He looked oddly frail in his white T-shirt, his hands surprisingly bare of their usual half-gloves.

"Reid," she said on a breath, stepping out the door. He backed up to let her out, and they stood silently on her porch for an instant. _Invite him in? Hell, no. Dad would flip. So-_

She kissed him there on the doorstep, her arms going around his neck like they'd always belonged there. His hands came up to tangle in her hair for an instant before sliding down to the small of her back, his fingers brushing against the belt of her robe. He kissed her like she was the only thing left, and she returned it with her heart and soul. The wolf mates for life, and Kat's lupine spirit had already made the connection to this strange, mysterious boy.

She tasted hunger, raw and unsteady, as well as fear and something oddly metallic… like blood, only vaguely unpleasant.

When they pulled back, gasping, Kat searched his face, confused.

"What-"

"I just wanted to tell you," he said, "you were a great lay."

"_What?_" She stared at him, seeing nothing in those quicksilver features, those flashing eyes. He held up his hands.

"Don't take it the wrong way. Like I said, you were great. Just what I needed at a time like that." He shuddered. "Anyway, I just thought I should stop by and see how you were doing." Frowning, she folded her arms.

"Um… I'm fine, I guess. Are-"

"Good. Well, see you around," he finished lightly, turning. Kat whipped out a hand and grabbed his arm.

"Wait! What the hell is this?"

"What? We're being accused of some serious shit here, Kat. It's every man for himself. Or girl for herself, in your case," he added musingly. Kat blinked, trying to process this.

"You- what are you saying?" He looked back at her, looking confused for a minute. Then, he gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

"You- wait. You didn't- You didn't think we were _together_ or anything, did you?" Kat's mouth fell open slightly, her eyes opening wide.

"I… You…"

"I don't do _relationships_," Reid said casually. "It was fun, we both needed it, and we make a good team. I foresee a long and enjoyable friendship," he finished mockingly. There was an instant, as he said those damning words, when Kat physically felt her heart stop beating. It was true, she now realized: he had never said he loved her. In fact, now that she thought about it, he'd said the opposite: _'Fuck love'_. The wolf inside her was crying out, howling with confusion and abandonment… and then with rage.

"You… you _asshole!_" He backed up, but she'd already grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. No longer did he look frail and bruised, Kat noted with a sneer. Now, he looked perfectly- fine-

"Hey, hey, watch it," Reid yelped. Kat spun with him, slamming him into the closed door of her house. She ignored the twinges of pain from her bandaged hands, as well as the way Reid stiffened.

"You bastard," she hissed. His chin was set, the point hard and determined. His eyes were like blue ice as he stared her down. Kat shoved aside her broken heart with a snarl. "You _dare_ come here and treat me like this, after all I- Fine. A _good team_? A _long and enjoyable friendship_? I'll give you long and enjoyable. If you ever come anywhere _near_ me again, I'll make your death so long you _beg_ for it, and I'll enjoy every last second." By the end of her threat, Kat's voice was so arctic that Reid shivered. She dropped him, shoved him aside, and slammed the door on her way inside her house.

Once she was gone, Reid picked himself up, straightened his clothes, and walked quickly to his car, stolen from his mother. He slid behind the wheel, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the passenger seat, pulled his newest lighter out of the backpack in the back seat, and lit up. He didn't actually smoke the cigarette, just held it and let the feel of it calm him as he drove one-handed. He held that cigarette all the way out of town, until the burning end scorched his fingers cherry-red. Cursing, he dropped it, pinching the burned fingers together until he cried out.

_Had to do it. Now she won't try to follow me. Had to keep her safe._

The pain from his fingers died down, so Reid bit his lip instead. Hard. Hard enough that his eyes starting tearing up. Hard enough that, with the pain, he felt just a little bit better about what he'd done to Kat Teague. When his lip went numb, and the guilt came back full tilt, Reid pulled over and lit another cigarette.

"Fuck," he said quietly, shaking his hand. There was a new blistery circle where he'd ground the lit end. Just another scar. The pain stayed this time, fiery streaks of agony rushing up and down his hand. He held his burned hand out the window, letting his head fall back against the head-rest and closing his eyes. He would not cry.

_Had to do it. Had to._

_**Of course you didn't have to. You could have killed her instead. Then, you wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. Wouldn't have to be so bound by some **_**girl**_**. Why should she influence you? You've got way more power than she'll **_**ever**_** have. She has no say in your life. You gonna let her rule you?**_

_Shut up. Shut the _fuck_ up._

_**Why should I? I have a point. You know I do.**_

_No you don't! I'm getting rid of you. _

_**You can't get rid of me. You **_**are**_** me.**_

Reid opened his eyes, staring blankly at the road for a long, tense moment before he pulled back onto the highway.


	35. Exit

Chapter 35

AN: This story is getting rather long. I've decided to split it into Books, this being Book One. Book Two will start soon. Also, to clear up any confusion, Reid did not act like an asshole to Kat because he felt like it. He did/said what he did/said in order to protect her. He thought that if she hated him, she'd be in less danger from whatever is wrong with him.

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Kat answered the telephone in her room with trepidation, half expecting to hear Reid's voice on the line. She had rushed to her room after slamming the door on him twenty minutes earlier, briefly telling her father that she was still exhausted from her 'ordeal'. The intervening time had been spent in a numb whirlwind of confusion, grief and rage. The anger took precedent by her very nature, and now Kat's hand clenched white on the receiver as she lifted it to her ear.

"Kat," Caleb said with a funny note of urgency, "have you seen Reid?"

"I don't want anything to do with him," she responded sharply, hearing a new coldness in her voice. "Check Nicky's, why don't you?"

"Wait-" She pushed the _disconnect_ button, gaining no satisfaction from the click that cut off Caleb's words. Sighing, Kat rubbed her eyes. Suddenly, the feigned exhaustion felt a lot more real.

The wolf inside longed to get out, to rip and tear and howl. The human girl wanted to sleep, to close her eyes and drop away. Together, they made the body they shared reach for the small mirror hanging on her wall, slamming it into the corner of the desk. Glass shattered, splintering into thousands of silvery pieces. Blood dripped slowly from a small cut on one hand as Kat fell to her knees among the shards, the tears she'd held in coming in a torrent until everything went dark.

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Caleb held the phone for a long instant after Kat hung up. He had the thought that this was the second time in less than an hour that he'd been hung up on. Slowly, heavily, Caleb sat down.

"_I don't want anything to do with him."_ He heard her words again, a chilly echo. It was as he'd feared. Reid had fled, cutting all ties he found dangerous… namely, Kat. He must have known she would try to follow him, so he had made her hate him. Caleb wondered briefly how he'd done it, then dismissed the question. Turning people against him was something Reid had honed to an art form.

As he sat in his own home, debating who to call and what to do, Caleb found himself growing queasy, an unfamiliar emotion curling around his stomach: he felt almost ridiculously alone. The feeling shocked him, made him sit back and swallow hard. He felt… _abandoned_. Reid had gone, and he had gone alone. Caleb shook his head, laughing at himself. This was _Reid_, for God's sake! The defiant, careless, selfish, most unwanted member of their little quartet!

But the feeling did not dissipate. It occurred to Caleb that he'd never actually believed that Reid would leave. The younger boy was like a child in that way: he would storm off, angry and offended, and then return a few hours later and revert to his annoying self. His anger had become a running joke, something not to be taken seriously. When Reid got pissed off, it was something to be humored at the best of times and ignored at the worst. Now, though… Something had changed. Some stitch in the fabric of things had torn with Reid's traumatic ascension, and Caleb could not forget the haunted sound of his friend's voice over the phone.

"…_Something's… something's _happening_ to me."_

What exactly had gone on in that house? What had Kat found when she went in after Reid, and what had she brought out?

"_Someone- some_thing_- in my head… Telling me to do stuff…"_

And now Reid was gone, having made sure Kat would not hunt him with her lupine nose and preternatural bond. He'd left the Covenant. Left Caleb, and Pogue, and Tyler. For the first time in their lives, Caleb realized hollowly, the Four were not together.

In the darker, more selfish part of his mind, Caleb couldn't help but hate Reid just a little for leaving. For changing, and for being the one to break the bond that had kept the Sons together for eighteen years. He hated Reid for running away, for not explaining, for not waiting. For not obeying him, as usual. Mostly, though, in some corner of his mind that Caleb wouldn't acknowledge, he hated Reid for leaving _him_. For not trusting him. It had always been that way: Caleb the older, more responsible brother, and Reid the younger, rebellious one who defied Caleb at every turn but, when it counted, listened. Learned. And now he had ignored everything Caleb said, doing the opposite of what he'd advised, leaving the Sons without so much as a goodbye. The sense of abandonment pulsed like a deep-seated ache in Caleb's chest, along with the usual worry, anger and a good helping of betrayal. Shaking his head, Caleb pushed away as many of his emotions as possible. Reid was gone. There was nothing he could do. He still had Kat and the others to protect, and the charges of kidnapping, arson and murder to deal with.

He felt, as he picked up the phone again, like an old, old man.

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On the road, Reid drove fast. He loved to drive fast. He'd always loved it, ever since Caleb taught him how to drive three years ago. Caleb wasn't that much older than him, really. Only a year or so. Still, it had seemed like such a big thing. Driving. Reid remembered barely being able to handle sitting still that long, listening to everything Caleb told him in that measured, patient voice he used when teaching. He remembered the first time Caleb actually took him driving, as he'd gotten his license two months after Reid got his learner's. The feeling of exhilaration, of freedom. They'd left the Garwin estate, Caleb rolling down the windows and laughing as Reid banked a curve, clapping him on the shoulder when he'd pulled to a stop. It had felt so clear then, so obvious: _this_ was what it was supposed to be like. Flying. Reid had always chased the rush, the excitement of that first car ride. Around then was when the rivalry with Caleb had really begun, and they had never gone driving like that again. Reid felt a pang of loss for those old days, when love was something to be toyed with, the other Sons were his family and Caleb was not the enemy. Now, he felt like they were burdens rather than boons, dangerous weights that would pull him down and drown with him. He couldn't tell how much of that was really him, and how much was poison whispered by the magic that filled him, and Reid hated that. He hated not knowing how in control he really was.

Leaving had been bad. Making Kat hate him had been like cutting out a piece of his arm, and the look in her eyes just before she closed the door had been like a bit of shrapnel digging into his heart. At the same time, he felt almost proud of doing it. Like he'd proved something.

_That's right. You don't need her. You don't need anybody. You just need this. The magic. The power._

He shook his head, turning on the radio. One way or another, it would all be over soon enough. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he had a vague idea: California. The coast. He'd find the priestesses, the ones who had indirectly done this to him, and he would make them find a way to stop it. One way or another.

**This ends Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies. Look next week for its sequel, End of Days. **


End file.
